Grandeur
by juliechristineb
Summary: 7 years after Diana Holland left Henry Schoonmaker on the New York City docks, she finds herself making the return journey after receiving a letter from her Aunt Edith that her mother is unwell. She only plans to stay for two weeks - just enough time to see her mother and Elizabeth - before quietly leaving just as quickly as she had come. Life, however, has a different plan.
1. Prologue

Prologue

 **Seasons come and seasons go, but one season always seems to catch our eye – that is, the social season. Seven years ago, we announced a thrilling shift in society. Beginning with the lovely and beautiful Miss Carolina Broud (though she prefers to be called Lina by her closest confidants), society has since moved in a - be it interesting - way. Now, instead of society consisting of only old names and old money, it now holds those with new names and new money. As we called it, the beginning of an age of wealth** ** _without_** **class. No one knows what the next seven years have in store, but you can be sure – we will be here to tell you of it.**

-From the "Gamesome Gallant" column in the _New York Imperial_ , Friday, June 28, 1907


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

 **There have been strange reports that a certain disgraced society woman –** ** _woman_** **, being the odd term here – will be gracing us with her presence shortly. My source, though anonymous, says a Miss Diana Holland will be aboard a ship due to arrive shortly at Ellis Island this** ** _very_** **week end! As a reminder, we last heard of the young Holland girl when she ran away from a proposal from the handsome Henry Schoonmaker at the docks almost a decade ago. Since then we have heard very little of her whereabouts, only knowing she is somewhere in Europe traveling extensively. We shall have to see what interesting weeks lay ahead. Why is she returning now? Could there be further financial woes in the Holland family again?**

-From the "Gamesome Gallant" column in the _New York Imperial_ , Saturday, June 29, 1907

* * *

 _I'm torn in two,_ I write on the worn journal in my hands. My hand shakes as I write and my insides flip – though I'm not sure if it's from the ships' swaying or what lies ahead. _I look forward to returning to New York. In an odd way, I've missed the smell, the noise, the busy way of life. I even miss Mother, of all things. From the correspondence with Aunt Edith, I know she is unwell. That's why I know I must return._

I don't know what will happen when I come ashore tomorrow. Aunt Edith had been writing to me and sending me Elizabeth's secret letters. Of course, Mother banned anyone from talking to me once I had left for Paris seven years ago.

Seven years.

Had it really been that long? Keller is six, almost seven, so it must be. I could feel Elizabeth's joy through her letters whenever she spoke of him or Teddy, and sympathize with her sorrows whenever he was injured doing little boy things like running or playing. Teddy took good care of them both, though. Elizabeth needed that after the horrors she endured. So well, in fact, that three years later, she welcomed a little girl with Teddy as well. Evelyn, Elizabeth had written, was just like me (much to her dismay). Stubborn, but full of life. Keller was a doting brother though he grew upset when Elizabeth tutted him for playing too rough.

Though I searched for it in every letter, I had heard nothing of the man I once gave everything up for – Henry Schoonmaker. Then again, I didn't ask for anything either. Truth be told, I was afraid of any news that might come through. Maybe Aunt Edith and Elizabeth were hiding it from me, or maybe there was nothing to report. I had stayed away from any society pages for the last seven years. I told myself the moment I boarded the ship to Paris that I was leaving all of that behind me. Yet here I was, almost a decade later, and returning to a home I thought I would never see again. I held my hopes up that he had followed through on his promise – that he would leave the witch known as Penelope Hayes. That was where my hopes ended though. I didn't know what I wanted for him after that. I had told him to find love again, in someone else. Of course I meant it at the time, but here, years later, there was still a piece of me dreadfully in love with the man. He deserved better than Penelope, and far better than me.

The pen rested in my hand. I looked out my small port window. It had been days since I had seen land. Now, being only a few short hours away, my insides tumbled over one another. I had not told anyone I was arriving or even coming back at all. I purposefully waited until after I knew the social season was over to avoid any scrutiny. Now, eyes will be turning toward the coming autumn season full of operas and grand feasts. I figured I could slip in and out unnoticed. I planned to be in the city no more than two weeks – long enough to see Mother, Edith, and Elizabeth's budding family. Then I would leave once again.

I thought back to the life I left behind seven years ago. Things were much, much different then. I was a whole new person now. I had experienced the world – not just through the lens of a society woman, but as a _real_ person. No one knew of the Holland or Schoonmaker family lineage or money at the places I stayed in Europe. They cared about drinking and living a full life, devoid of regrets. _They_ were my people. Not the ones I had lived seventeen years with. Now, at twenty-four, I felt I had lived a full life whereas then I felt like a bird trapped in a beautiful cage. I didn't want beauty, though. I wanted _life_. So I went and I got it.

It was no matter though. Edith had sent me a letter a month after my arrival saying gossip about my whereabouts had died down quite a bit. Columns rarely spoke of the disgraced Holland girl and instead turned their eyes elsewhere to the up-and-coming Lina. As far as I had heard, she had remained unmarried this entire time. Though she and Leland became good friends later, they had both agreed that it was what was best. I couldn't have been more proud of my former maid. She and I had something, or rather a lot, in common. We had each forged our own paths, without men. And for that, I felt that we were stronger. Although Mother forbid it, Edith went to many of Lina's parties and wrote that each one seemed more extraordinary than the last. I was happy for her, and even wrote her a letter telling her so. She invited me to every outing she had planned but I couldn't have the heart to decline her. Our writings stopped just as quickly as they had begun.

The sun was long gone by now and the moon was bright and high in the sky. I knew I should be asleep, resting before the eventful day ahead, but my nerves were too wired to sleep. Outside my window, the waves swelled and fell away, swaying the boat this way and that. As I watched them, it slowly made my eyes begin to droop and my mind slow down. I could hear the faint sound of the waves crashing against the side of the large boat singing to me almost like a lullaby reminding me of the coasts of many different countries I had lived in for short periods of time. Eventually, I pulled the thin blanket over my body and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

The sun wasn't even above the horizon yet when I awoke to feet running down the hallways and young children yelling to their parents, "We're here! We made it!" in several different languages.

I got up from my feather bed and looked outside my porthole. The horizon was glowing orange. I could see nothing but water – the same as I had seen for days now. But there was a feeling in the air – the feeling of promise and excitement. For most on the ship, coming to America was a new beginning. They had left their homes and families behind to start an entirely new life in this country. For others, it was a return home after a finishing season or vacation abroad. For me, it was something in between. I am not the same girl I was when I first left New York. In a way, I _was_ coming to a new life. Yet in another, the time away had felt like a holiday more than anything.

I knew we would be in sight of the one thing that would signify our true arrival to the country soon. I changed into my travel clothes I had worn so many times already. I slipped on the white stockings that were so worn they had become grey and pulled on the thick, tan, wool skirt. I tucked my thin summer waistcoat into the band of the skirt. The stiff, high collar was not to my liking but I figured since I would be seeing Mother today, I had better look the best I could. I took back a large portion of the top of my unruly brunette curls and secured it with pins, letting the rest of my long hair curl around my shoulders. I touched it gently, remembering the night I cut it all off to join the army to be with Henry. I savored the moment for a while longer, letting the rising sun drench my room in even more warmth.

By the time I grabbed my luggage and made my way to the deck, the sun was over the horizon and people milled about here and there, looking for the one sight I knew all too well.

I remembered going to the docks many times in my youth. It took me an hour each way to walk to – I couldn't ever risk Mother hearing about how I had walked around the city without a chaperone. But I spent the entire day watching ships carrying people and cargo come and go. But that one monument stood tall day in and day out, far into the water.

When my eyes met her, a smile unconsciously rose to my lips. I saw her hand raised high to the sky, holding the torch of enlightenment. I felt as though she was looking right into me, welcoming me back.

 _Lady Liberty._

I suddenly couldn't wait to be off the boat and back onto the familiar pavement. As much as I had dreaded the city while I lived there, there was a strange pulling sensation drawing me back in. I felt as though I was meant to make this return. I had to keep reminding myself it was only for a fortnight, and then I would be off again.

As the boat neared the famous statue, the crowd around me began to roar with excitement. The smile that had crept onto lips only deepened as we approached. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath in, relishing in the moment. The smell of the city was creeping into the air now, and a comfort settled into my heart.

I was, in fact, home.


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Hours ached by. It took all morning to get off the boat, and another half of the day to get through the immigration building. Despite being a legal citizen, I stayed in line with the others coming from foreign countries. One way to stick out in this crowd was to skip the many lines and get straight through the building, which was one thing I did not want to do. I knew out of personal experience how many eyes Mr. Barnard, writer of the "Gamesome Gallant," had in the city. He would have them scouting this location almost endlessly and no doubt they would do whatever he asked just to get the money. I kept the brim of my hat low on my eyes and my head turned down to the ground. I could not risk being seen by anyone, whether I knew them or not. For all I knew, the woman with her three children ahead of me who looked about the same age as I knew exactly who I was.

I clasped my papers tightly in my hand, careful to not expose too much information on the outside for fear of my name showing. I didn't even think of creating a false name for the trip here. I found myself fidgeting with the papers as I neared the man who would check them. I looked down at my left hand and saw the empty ring finger. I kept remembering Henry presenting me with the most spectacular sapphire and diamond ring. I replayed that moment in my head for months on end, second after second, day after day. Eventually, I was able to push it away from my mind. Sometimes though, it managed to creep to the forefront of my mind and my heart would flutter immensely at the memory. But just as fast as the happiness swept over my body, immeasurable sadness and guilt overcame it.

 _I left him_ , I told myself. _At his most vulnerable, I left him_.

I had to keep reminding myself that, should I somehow be able to go back in time, I would still do the same thing over again. Henry belonged in New York. As much as he said he would travel the world with me and leave that very second, I knew he wouldn't be as happy as he was in the city. It was his home – it was never mine.

"Next," I heard the man abruptly yell, ripping me from my thoughts. "Ma'am, next."

I lifted my luggage from the ground and stepped toward him. His hand was outstretched for my papers and I reluctantly placed them in his hand. I did not recognize him. Then again, even if I did know him, it had been seven years since I've stepped foot in this country. No one would look the same. I only prayed that my name had been out of the papers for long enough for the world to forget it.

"Holland," he said to me, looking at my name. "Sounds familiar."

My heart was beating so fast it felt as though it was ripping itself from my chest.

"It's pretty common in Northern Europe," I hastily said.

"Holland…" he said again, trailing off as if trying to recall something. I peered at his name. _Smithson_ was imprinted on his badge, with only the initial _R_ for his first name. The name rang no bells in my mind, so I only hoped it would be the same for him.

"I think a distant cousin married a Holland, years ago." His voice was abnormally high, I realized. He spoke as if only through his small nose. "Delores, I think her name was. Any relation?"

I shook my head as my breath came out in a relieved sigh. "No," I replied, "I'm sorry."

"Coming back home, Miss Holland?" he asked, looking back down at the papers.

"Yes," I answered. "Visiting family."

 _Please just let me go._

He glanced up and I felt his eyes rake over my body. I knew he was just comparing me to my photo and description – _petite_ , _brown hair, brown eyes, white skin, thin frame_ – but the eyes made me uncomfortable. At any moment, he could recall my name from an old column and soon the whole world would know where I was. _Henry_ would know where I was. I feared what he would do when he heard my name mentioned, after all these years, and that I was in the same city as him. Would he walk away and shrug it off, because he had fallen out of love with me long ago? Before I could think of any other possibilities, R. Smithson was handing me back my papers, welcoming me home, and wishing me a safe journey.

I grabbed the papers back quicker than I would have liked. I thanked him and walked away quickly before anyone else could get the chance to see me. I had never been this wary while I lived in Europe, but now – here – I was going positively mad about it.

I finished walking through the rest of the lines quickly. After R. Smithson, it was relatively fast leaving the immigration building. My next task was to get on the ferry that would finally take me ashore. I followed the masses, making sure to stay in the thick of the crowd with my head bowed low enough to block my eyes from anyone peering at me. The sun was beginning to lower in the sky, and the heat of the summer was unrelenting. The wool of my skirt and the stiffness of my collar felt as though they were suffocating me. Sweat appeared on my brow quickly. My gloved hand was drenched and sore from carrying my luggage the whole day. I quickened my pace, ready to be on the ferry and inland already.

The ride was short and uneventful. Children screamed and hollered, running up and down the seats in unending energy. I watched them, smiles on their faces and innocent laughter escaping their throats. I longed to return to that age, before all the heartache with Henry and Elizabeth, before I knew what it was to know the love of a man or the hatred of another. Before I knew the horrors of Elizabeth's life – how her second husband (though known as the first to the public) Snowden Cairns was the man responsible for not only our own father's death but for the death of her first husband, Will Keller. After she found it out, Mr. Cairns began sedating her while she was pregnant with hers and Will's child. From what Elizabeth managed to tell me shortly after, she awoke one night from the haze and managed to knock him off his feet enough to cause him to spill down the stairs to his fateful death. I left for Paris shortly thereafter. I hated leaving her, especially in the state in which she was, but I trusted Teddy with her. I had always had a funny feeling about Snowden and his odd interest in our family the moment we fell into financial woes. Teddy, though, was a friend of our family for… well, as long as I could remember. He and Elizabeth grew up together. I watched the joyful laughter as he looked at her turn into something more. He held a quiet love in his heart for Elizabeth, even proposing to her multiple times. I did not originally know why she refused him, but after learning of her and Will's love, I understood. I wasn't at their eventual wedding six months later. By then, Keller would have only been just born. From what I read in Aunt Edith's card, it was the most romantic ceremony she had ever seen, second only to the small intimate one between her and Will only a year prior.

I became suddenly jealous of my older sister. Through all the horrors she endured, she still managed to come out on top with only the best man for her. I, on the other hand, was only left with the crushing weight of leaving the one man I truly loved. It was better for both of us, I knew, but I wished for nothing more at that moment than to have ended up in the fairytale-like bliss Elizabeth had.

I was stuck inside my own thoughts for so long I hadn't even realized people had begun to stand from their seats to exit the ferry. It was nearly half empty before I noticed what was happening. I quickly grabbed my luggage and stood, making my way in the crowd. Mothers clutched tightly to their toddlers and fathers carried the large bags for the family. I, however, was quite possibly the only passenger who was utterly alone. Normally I wouldn't mind – after all, I had been alone for seven years and was quite content with the fact. But now I was back in the town I had grown up in and old thoughts and memories came flooding back. I suddenly felt the same way I had for seventeen years of my life. I felt _vulnerable_ walking alone. Mother would have insisted on a chaperone and that I change out of my dreadfully plain clothes. I felt as though I must represent my family better.

 _No one knows your family_ , I reminded myself. I had gotten this far with no one knowing who I was. Or at least, I had hoped so.

Upon exiting the ferry, the sun was setting on the horizon highlighting the sky a bright orange. It was nothing like the sunsets off the southern coast of France, but it was a comfortable glow of being back home. A night breeze was coming in now, cooling the sweat that had pooled during the day. I fixed my high collar of my shirtwaist and moved a few stray hairs from my face. A gentleman at the edge of the dock held my hand as I stepped ungracefully off the ferry and back onto solid ground. It was hard and unyielding, unlike the swaying floors of the boat I had grown accustomed to these last few days. I smoothed my wool skirt back down, even though it was already smooth. Honestly, I was just biding time before knowing I needed to go home.

 _17 Gramercy_.

It had been a while since I had thought of the address of my childhood home. Sure, I had written to it multiple times but it was almost unconsciously written. I remembered the dark brick of the home and old feel of the floors. Generations of Hollands had lived in that house. I was only one of the many inhabitants and it was only within this decade that ruin began the fall on the house. Beginning with our father's untimely death that Elizabeth had uncovered was actually a murder, one bad thing after another seemed to occur inside those walls.

I wondered how my mother would react to seeing me again. I knew she was unwell from the letters, but I couldn't imagine a strong woman like Louisa Holland being too unwell as to shout and hiss as I entered the doorway. I was her shamed, disgraced daughter. At the same time though, it had been seven years since we had each seen each other. Surely the pain would have eased.

"My _god_ , Diana – is that really you?" I heard a man's voice calling me from my thoughts. I had reached the end of the dock where it met the cobbled street.

At first, I was terrified that it was Henry, but the voice was too high to have come from the deep tone I remembered Henry's to be. I looked up, taking the brim of my large hat with me, and met the man's eyes. My head had snapped up so quickly my neck almost hurt. I hadn't held my head up all day. I knew those deep, gray eyes and disheveled blonde hair anywhere. There were new lines on his face. I could feel tears instantly well in my eyes.

"Teddy," I said, but it came out in no more than a cracked whisper.

I dropped my bag immediately and ran to him, wrapping my thin arms around his neck. I could feel his warm arms wrap around my waist in return.

"Oh, Di," he whispered into my hair. We clutched each other tightly. When we let go, he looked me up and down. "I don't remember you being quite so… small!"

I cracked a smile. "I don't remember you looking quite so old, either. Has a crow stepped on your face?" I retorted, noticing the creased lines beside his eyes.

He chuckled and grabbed my bag. "Elizabeth notices them every morning. Always has to mention them. You two are more alike than either of you are willing to admit."

He began walking away from the docks, toward the street. I came to a screeching halt when I realized something. I hadn't written to anyone – _anyone_ – that I was coming. Yet here Teddy was, waiting.

"Teddy," I called, making him stop and turn to look at me again, a smile still on his face.

"Yes, Diana?"

"How did you know?"

"Know what?"

"That I would be here. That I was coming back."

His jaw tightened. He took the couple steps toward me so when he spoke, I was the only one who heard him.

"It was in the papers this morning. Your name was on the ship's documented travelers – someone must have gotten hold of the list before the ship docked and told the papers. The whole _city_ is buzzing, Di." His voice sounded excited, but my heart immediately sank. He thought I was home for good, which only meant that everyone else thought so, too.

I shook my head quickly. "Teddy, I must confess–"

He continued on without missing a beat. "Elizabeth is going to be so happy to know it wasn't false – you know how the papers are. Rumors abound everywhere. Half the city thinks it's a ruse and the other half… well, they still aren't thrilled about your return based on…" He trailed off.

 _Based on how you left_ , I finished for him in my mind.

"Yes, well," I said after we both fell silent for a moment too long. "Best not keep everyone waiting, then."

I had lost the will to tell him how long I was actually staying for. I couldn't stand to ruin his happiness such a short time after arriving. I resolved to tell everyone tonight when things had died down.

Though I should have known, after living in that city for so long, things never turn out quite like you plan.


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

"Elizabeth allows you to keep this thing?" I asked, shocked.

The automobile was red and garish – everything Elizabeth was not. To me, it resembled a dog with its long snout and body. It held two rows of seats of black leather and had its steering wheel poking straight forward towards the first row. I could see the name scrolled on the front engine of the beast – _Ford_.

"Well, sort of," Teddy replied, placing my luggage in the back row of seats. He stepped up and behind the wheel. "She hates the thing, but she knows how much I adore it."

"I had only read about this company, Ford, in Europe. No one has them over there." I stared at the thing, half afraid to step inside its belly. Of course I had ridden in many horseless carriages but _this_ was an automobile. A fine line between the two – perhaps the same thing to many – but to me, it was a thousand steps apart. Horseless carriages were for every man – poor or rich, it didn't matter. An _automobile_ , on the other hand, was far too exquisite for the poor man. Only the wealthy could ever dream of owning such a piece of work, and even fewer actually had them in their grips.

"It's a Ford Model K. Just came out this year. Do you like it?" He cranked the beast to life, and it let out a loud roar. It shook with excitement.

"It's…" I hesitated for the right word.

Teddy rolled his eyes. "Just get in, Di. I promise it won't hurt you."

I tentatively slid in beside him – since there were no doors to hold you in, and gripped my skirt tightly in my fists.

The automobile was _loud_. Whenever Teddy tried to talk, I had to ask him to repeat his words. I felt every rock and pebble on the road from the docks. I had to hold my hand over my hat to keep the brim from flying up and falling off my head. It was only held on by a thin ribbon tied under my chin. It took me a few minutes, but I eventually got used to the rocking of the automobile and the loud hum of the engine. Teddy's words came clearer and clearer over the roar.

"You'll stay at our home, obviously," Teddy was saying. "Elizabeth will insist on it."

"Not in Gramercy?" I asked.

I had always pictured myself sleeping in my old room in my old bed, surrounded by the pink wallpaper and white fur rug that Henry had taken my innocence on. The house had many, many horrible memories living in its walls but it was my childhood home nonetheless. No matter what atrocities had occurred in there, they were in my past as a young and naïve girl. I was a grown woman now. The nightmares in the walls could hurt me no longer.

"I should think not," said Teddy. "As you know, your mother is in no state to receive you. It would shock her heart, surely. She is very weak, Diana." His voice was soft, careful, and tender. It made my head snap toward him in unease. Had Edith underplayed the severity of Mother's illness? Was she actually much worse than I had thought?

I had to distract myself from these thoughts. I would get answers soon enough, but my mind did not want them right now. I said the first thing that came to mind, but quickly regretted it.

"When you said the whole city knew of my arrival, did you mean _everyone_?"

He knew exactly of whom I was speaking of. The one man that made me leave the city in the first place.

Teddy was so silent and focused on the road, I was unsure if he had heard me over the engine. I was about to drop the subject when he finally replied.

"I haven't talked to Henry yet today."

Hearing someone else mention his name was an entirely new feeling – or at least one I had not felt in a very long time. I had spoken and thought Henry's name thousands of times over these last few years but to hear someone else speak it nearly ripped me in half. Half in glee, half in terror.

I wanted to flood Teddy with questions about Henry. For the first time in years, I was in the vicinity of someone who could finally answer them. But I stayed quiet. Perhaps I did not want to know the answers or maybe I wanted to keep my composure and not burst into tears in front of my brother-in-law.

We spent the rest of the ride in silence. By the time we reached his and Elizabeth's home, it was dark. I was thankful for the darkness of night – it meant people on the street had less of a chance of seeing and recognizing me. I was content knowing that, on Monday, there would be no scandalous story in the papers of Mr. Theodore Cutting welcoming a brunette mistress into his home – the exact opposite color of his wife's angelic blonde hair.

Their home was of modest size – certainly larger than many had, but far less ostentatious than what I remembered Penelope's family home to be. The outside of their house was made of grey stone that probably shone white in the summer sun. They had a deep navy blue door slated with glass panes intricately designed. Their home was situated right on 5th Avenue, facing the large Central Park where I was ice skated with a man Mother wanted me to marry. His name was lost to me now, but I distinctly remembered him falling into the ice while I watched and giggled. That was the winter Elizabeth was presumed dead to the rest of the world, but she let me in on hers and Will's secret elopement.

Teddy brought the large automobile around to the back of the house, where a small shed waited to welcome it. He rolled it in slowly and it fit perfectly, allowing just enough space for him and I to hop out. It was much different than the stables and carriage spot I was used to at Gramercy. Smaller. More quaint. Then again, had I expected him and Elizabeth to live in the exact same lifestyle as the one we grew up in? Elizabeth was traditional, but she certainly paved her own path.

We walked out of the shed, Teddy continuing to carry my luggage, and headed toward the back of the house. I looked up at the building, again admiring it. As I said, it was a fairly good size. She and Teddy were obviously more than fine on finances, but less off than what we were when we were children. This was a cozy home. One Elizabeth's children will be happy they grew up in. She would assure they had a better life growing up than either of us had in that stuffy Gramercy home.

"Coming Diana?" Teddy called from the back door. I realized I had been standing and staring at their house for longer than I intended.

I blinked rapidly, drawing myself out of my haze. "Sorry," I mumbled. I quickly caught up to him and he opened the door. Immediately, the smell of something delicious hit my nose. Someone was cooking.

The room we had stepped into was messy – not what I was expecting of the pristine Elizabeth I had remembered. Coats hung haphazardly on hooks and umbrellas lay either littered on the ground or in a stand. Mail was strewn on a table – some envelopes were opened while others were left untouched.

Just as I was about to comment, a figure stepped in ahead of us, poking her head around the corner.

"Oh! Good you're home," she said, wiping her hands on a towel, "I was beginning to wonder–" Her voice came to a halt the moment her eyes locked onto mine. "Diana!"

Tears came to my eyes again that day. It had been seven years since I last saw my sister. Despite our differences growing up and the tussles we got into, we were still sisters by blood. It broke my heart every day being away from her. I realized that must have been how it felt when she went away with Will all those years ago. Only, I got to say my goodbyes. She never did.

"Elizabeth."

We raced together and wrapped our arms around each other. We held tight and I never wanted to let go. I had wondered what this moment would be like over and over again since I decided to return home, but nothing felt quite so right as this moment. I had had my doubts about coming back, but this made those doubts drift away. I was home. I was back with Elizabeth. Things were going to be all right.

When we eventually released each other, we both had to wipe under our eyes to rid of the water that had gathered there.

"You're back," she said, her voice gathering strength again.

"Sorry to disappoint," I joked.

She smiled and laughed. Oh, how I missed that tinkling of a laugh. It was like the smallest, most gracious of bells being rung at a church service.

"Please, come in!" she said, moving away from the entrance. "Step out of that filthy room and let me have a look at you." I entered into a large kitchen. I expected there to be at least three cooks the way the place smelled but there was only one small girl, who seemed too young to be a professional cook. She was busying away over a pot with her back turned to me. Beside her, the only ones in the room were the three of us. "You came just in time," Elizabeth continued without missing a breath. "Supper is almost ready. My, would you look at you! You've grown into a beautiful young lady."

We were only two years apart, but I supposed that everything she had been through compared to me had made her seem older than that.

I could feel her eyes glance down at my hand, looking for a ring.

 _She expects you to be married_ , I realized to myself. After all, by my age, she had been married three times and welcomed two children into the world.

I hid my hand behind my skirts. She sighed and said, "You've lost a lot of weight. Are you eating well over there?" A grateful change in subject.

I smiled and laughed it off. "I'm fine, Elizabeth. Like you said, I've grown. You've changed, too!" I noticed the fine lines on her face, similar to Teddy's. Where his were smile lines around his eyes and lips, hers were creased onto her forehead, probably from perpetual fear over her children. I could always tell from her few letters how much she worried over them. She was so used to losing things just as quickly as she was happy – I suppose it takes a while to change that kind of mindset.

Teddy cleared his throat and lifted my luggage in his hand slightly as a signal to Elizabeth. Her face went bright red and her eyes flashed wider.

"Oh, of course! Teddy, be a dear and show Diana to her room so she can change for supper. Anna and I will finish in here." He nodded and began heading away from the room. Elizabeth took a moment to touch my arm gently. "It really is good to have you back, Di." The way her voice softened made my heart break. I had to remind myself after we all ate to tell them the truth – that I planned to stay for only two weeks. Surely they must understand. This city is no longer my home, only theirs.

I quickly followed Teddy out of the large kitchen and through their ornately decorated dining room. Connected to their dining room was then their parlor before finally entering the front of the house where curved stairs led upwards. The house was new, I recalled him saying on the ride in, but somehow retained a warm and comfortable feeling. They had lived in this place since they got married and had certainly made it their own. Portraits hung on walls of Elizabeth and her children, even one of Mother hung above a fireplace in their parlor. Occasional children's toys were strewn about different rooms, probably to be picked up by Elizabeth later that night.

The stairs at Gramercy had a familiar creak to each step. So familiar, in fact, that you could always tell which step someone was on whenever they travelled up the stairs. That house was old and been through many generations of Hollands. This home, however, was silent on the stairs. It probably should have felt eerie to me, but instead hardly made me think of anything.

Once we got to the top, the hallway split into two directions. Teddy took me to the left where he opened the door at the end. It opened to a large room with many windows draped in white lace. He turned a switch to his left on and slowly, light began to fill the room. There was an odd buzz in the air that I realized must have been electricity.

 _I guess that's one way to know you're back in a wealthy city_.

For so long, I had been living with gaslight and firelight. I had forgotten all about electricity.

"I'll let you make yourself comfortable. Anna will be up shortly to get you for supper. Will you be alright?" Teddy asked, placing my luggage on top of a trunk at the end of the four-poster bed.

I nodded and he left the room. As the lights in the room became brighter and brighter, I began to look around at everything. This was quite obviously an extra bedroom used for guests. I wasn't sure how often Elizabeth had guests, though. From what I could tell from Edith's letters, the Holland family was cast out of much of the spotlight shortly after I left. With Elizabeth welcoming a new child and new life, she had kept out of society for so long that I guess they forgot about her until it was announced she was pregnant again. When she had Evelyn, it was announced in the papers as tradition and then she quietly stepped back out of society again.

I wondered for a brief moment how the children would react to meeting me. Evelyn was only four, but surely Elizabeth had told her about me? And Keller… well, he was almost ten. It was weird to think he has grown so fast. Everyone had grown so fast, me included.

I unlatched the locks on my bag and opened it. I pulled out my few dresses I had and laid them on the bed. I would store them properly soon, but for now I just stared at them in the stark contrast of the room. The dresses were plain, in neutral earth tones. I could never dream of being able to afford the beautiful gowns I had once adorned myself with begrudgingly. While in Europe I worked at many taverns and pubs, often at the mercy of men's gropes and roving eyes to get my wages. I never stayed in one country too long, but the men in London were the least brutish so I stayed there for the last two years at a place called McNally's. The staff was kind and honest with the work being easy and dull. Had my younger self met my current self, I feel like she would be let down by who I had become.

When I was seventeen, I planned on living a life full of great adventure. I planned to travel and never stop. I never once thought of money as an object I needed. I had lived such a luxurious life without ever knowing it. When it came down to it, I had no idea how to live poorly. I had to learn a completely new lifestyle.

And now, looking at the sheets on Elizabeth's bed, I had forgotten my previous life. The thick blanket had an overlay of yellow silk embroidered with golden thread. This was the nicest bedding I had seen in years, and it nearly brought tears to my eyes when I compared it against my dresses laid out on the bed. What I had thought were appropriate evening wear was nothing more than a maid's dress, probably something similar to their Anna wore.

I wouldn't dare ask Elizabeth for any of her clothing. I couldn't face the shame. So instead I picked the very nicest thing I owned – it was an all white gown with a tulle underlay to give it a fuller skirt. The skirt itself was dappled with green flowers and their petals drifting as if falling to the floor. I pulled an olive-colored ribbon from my bag and tied it around my small waist, giving it just a little more of an emphasis.

I nearly leapt out of my skin when I heard someone opening the door. I turned around, startled, only to be met by the small frame of the girl who must have been Anna.

"Miss Diana, supper is finished. Do you need any help with your dress?" she asked. Her voice was small, like I remembered Claire's. Claire was Lina's sister – they were both our maids growing up but now lived a far superior life as socialites.

Looking at the girl, I realized she was no older than fifteen.

"It's Anna, right?" I asked. She nodded. "I would love some help tying this ribbon behind me, if you don't mind."

She smiled politely and stepped into the room. She tied it within seconds. I eyed myself in the mirror one last time, fixing the stray hairs that had fallen out throughout the long day. To be honest, I wasn't even particularly hungry. I was more exhausted than anything.

"Anything else, Miss?" Anna asked.

I shook my head. "No, I don't believe so. How do I look?" I took a turn for her.

"Absolutely stunning, Miss," she said, her eyes lighting up. I recognized that look – envy. It was the same look Lina gave Elizabeth every day. They used to be best friends, her, Lina, and Will. But Will fell in love with Elizabeth instead of Lina, and so Lina felt betrayed. Their friendship became so distant that it was hard to remember that they had once been so close. Anna's envy was different though. It did not come from a place of malice but instead of wonder. She had never owned anything like this in her life and she had never even dreamt of owning such fine material in her life, even though it was mundane to me.

"We shouldn't keep them waiting, then, shall we?" I said, taking her small hand in mine and leading out of the bedroom, leaving the cheap dresses on the fine bedding.

As we headed down the curling stairs, I could hear children's laughter emanating from the dining room. I quickened my steps, eager to meet my little niece and nephew for the first time.

They were just as perfect as I imagined. Keller had Will's dark hair and deep blue eyes, but had Elizabeth's ivory complexion and smile. Evelyn had both Elizabeth's and Teddy's blonde hair but the Holland brown eyes. Keller immediately knew who I was and shouted, "Auntie Di!" the moment I reached the last step. He raced through the parlor and I greeted him half way, his arms wrapped around my skirts.

I knelt down to be at his level. "You can't be Keller, can you?" I asked.

He giggled and replied, "Of course I am!"

I shook my head, mocking seriousness. "No, you can't be. The Keller I heard of is _much_ cuter."

"But I _am_ Keller!" his little voice screeched. He couldn't fully pronounce his "R"s, so he said his name more like "Kelluh."

Little Evelyn came racing in, a smile lighting up her face as well. "Evie!" I called, holding my arms out to her. She leapt into them, squealing as she did.

"Di!" she laughed as I tickled her stomach.

Keller was pulling on my skirts, leading me toward to another room. I held Evelyn in my arms as we all walked into the dining room. There, Elizabeth and Teddy were already waiting along with another woman – much older this time, probably closer to Aunt Edith's age. She held her white hair in a tight bun on the back of her head and had the brightest blue eyes I had ever seen. Though she had stern lines on her face, she looked to be happy to see all four of us walk into the room.

"I'll begin serving," Anna said, leaving my side and exiting into the kitchen.

The older woman stepped forward and took Evelyn from my hands. Keller followed her and his sister to the other side of the table.

"Shall we sit?" Teddy said, opening a chair for me. I smiled and took it, with everyone following suit soon after me.

The ceramic plates glittered white in front of me, with a simple gold lining around the edge. As Anna brought out food, I kept glancing over at the older woman, wondering if I had known her from somewhere. She looked so familiar, but so different at the same time. My mind could not place her.

Elizabeth must have seen me eyeing her. Between a spoonful of her soup, she said to me, "Diana, I'd like you to meet Delores. She's been helping out with the children. They can be quite a handful, can't they Delores?"

Delores let out a short chuckle. "They can, Miss."

 _She's a helper_ , I realized. I tried to shake the confusion off my face, but it was so odd to me that Elizabeth was letting the woman eat in the dining room with us. Mother would have never allowed it. Maids and cooks and the like were never allowed to sit and eat in the dining room, let alone with the main household.

"Do you recognize her, Di?" Elizabeth continued.

I swallowed my soup before answering. "She looks familiar, that's all."

Elizabeth smiled. "Well, she should. Mother hired her when you were born to take care of you."

I blinked rapidly. "Oh?"

Delores broke in, saying, "Mrs. Louisa was seeking out my service shortly after you entered the world. She had said you were quite the problem child – oh, you were always so fussy, crying and screeching all the time." She was smiling at the memory, but my face was flushed red. I had never heard any of this before. Mother had always said I was a terrible child, but I never knew to what extent. "It took me ages to figure out what you wanted. I tried feeding you, changing you, taking you outside for strolls – nothing pleased you."

"So what was it?" I asked.

"You wanted me to read to you in your father's library."

I vaguely remembered, then, a memory of sitting in a woman's lap while she held a book in front of both of us and read the words on the page with such fervor. Whether the memory was real or conjured, I didn't know. What I did know was that I had always found solace in Father's library, even after he died.

We all finished our soups and Anna brought out the next rotation of food. While it was being served, Elizabeth had her head turned to Teddy about to tell him something, but I could feel her looking at me as she said it.

"Henry came and visited today."

I dropped my fork and it fell heavily to the floor, leaving a clattering noise on the wood in its wake.

"Sorry," I mumbled, dropping to pick it up. Anna had put the plate in front of me before reaching down to help as well.

"It's alright, Miss," she said, not knowing what had caused my sudden outburst. "I'll go fetch you another one."

"He did?" Teddy replied to Elizabeth, obviously unaware of the commotion over on my end of the table.

"Yes. He was looking for you, but I told him you were out for the day. I told him to return tomorrow for visiting hour."

"Does he know?" I interjected without thinking. I tried telling myself that I didn't care. It was a lie.

"Well, it was in every major paper this morning. I would assume so," Elizabeth answered. My appetite was suddenly gone. My head began to pound and I closed my eyes. "Diana, are you alright? You've gone quite white."

I put my napkin on the table next to my plate and scooted my chair away from the table. "I'm suddenly not feeling so well. I must be… tired. From my travels. I think I'll just go to bed."

"Diana, I didn't mean any offense–" Elizabeth began.

I just shook my head and stood from the table. "Of course you didn't. It's quite alright. I shall see you in the morning, sister."

I kissed Keller and Evelyn on their foreheads and wished Anna and Delores a goodnight before leaving the room. The moment I was out of their sites, I released the water that had been building behind my eyes.

My feet felt like lead walking up those stairs, each step heavier than the last. Henry knew – he knew I was back. The whole _city_ knew I was back. The quiet in-and-out I had hoped for became a shattered dream. I was stupid to think I could come back unnoticed.

When I got into my room, I closed the door and stripped myself out of my dress and into my sheer white nightgown. I remembered the fine materials I used to sleep in – silk with lace embellishments – but this was plain white cotton cloth. Nothing special, just like me.

Tomorrow, I told myself, I would convince Teddy to drive me to Gramercy to finally see Mother and her condition. I had heard little to nothing about what she was actually suffering from, and Teddy's earlier talk made me more worried.

A knock at my door broke me from my thoughts. Without waiting to hear whether the knocker could come in or not, the door opened. Elizabeth's face popped in holding a plate in her hand.

"Diana, I'm so sorry for what I said at the table. I just… I assumed… It's been seven years. I didn't know you still held Henry so highly," Elizabeth said, stepping in with trepidation.

"You still love Will, don't you?" I asked.

She wasn't expecting a question like that. She stepped in closer and shut the door behind her. The plate was placed on the table next to my bed and Elizabeth sat down next to me on the mattress.

"Why do you ask?" Elizabeth answered.

I sighed, wiping the tears from my cheeks. It was pointless – more fell shortly after. "You loved him. With everything you had, you _loved_ him. You gave up everything for him – you left the city and created a beautiful life for the both of you. And all too soon, that happiness was ripped from you." A pain I hadn't seen in years crossed her face then. I quickly continued, "When I told you about Henry, do you remember what you said to me?"

She furrowed her brows. "No, I do not."

"You told me to leave. You said that Henry and I needed to leave New York – that we would never find true happiness here. We were going to leave, Elizabeth, before Henry's father died. He couldn't leave; he had too much responsibility to leave. He tried to convince me that everything was going to be fine now that his father had died. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't stay. Not without knowing that every corner I turned, women would be whispering and talking about the mistress who tore his and Penelope's marriage apart. I couldn't bear it. So I left."

"Diana, I still don't know why–"

"You never stopped loving Will, even though he's been gone for years. You never will stop loving him – he's become a part of you. That's Henry to me. He's like… a dandelion. A beautiful flower, but a weed. I tried ripping him off of me every day for years, but I never had the courage to rip out the roots. He still grows on me, beautifully and terribly at the same time."

Elizabeth shook her head. "I'm so sorry, Diana. It was wrong of me to assume."

I pursed my lips, feeling my salty tears between them. "It's not your fault. Any sane person _would_ have fallen out of love with a man they hadn't seen or spoken to in almost a decade."

That made Elizabeth laugh. "You know what the papers say – the Holland girls were never really sane to begin with."

She began to get up and leave the room but I stopped her by saying, "Thank you."

"For?"

"Letting me stay here." I shrugged. "Giving me a home, warm food. And… letting me rant about everything. I haven't had anyone to talk to for so long."

"You've always had me, Diana," she said. "Eat your food. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

She left the room just as quietly as she had come. I finished my dinner, though I still felt no appetite. I pulled back the covers on the bed and lay there, for what seemed like hours, with a million thoughts running through my head. Eventually, I was able to close my eyes and drift off into a dreamless sleep.


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

 **A fortunate young lady needs no advice, except a very good old-fashioned reminder, that she "should obey her mother, and be a good girl." If she does just that, if she avoids clandestine meetings with young gentlemen, and all foolish love affairs, and takes care of her health, she may be quite sure that her bark will float gaily on to the comfortable port of a happy marriage and a successful future.  
** -Mary Elizabeth Wilson Sherwood, "Etiquette: The American Code of Manners"

Sunday mornings were for church, followed by rest and relaxation and culminating in visiting hour. Elizabeth came to wake me in the morning for the church service. As I hadn't been to a service in years, I opted out. I told her I still had rest to catch up on – after all, my mind and body still believed to be hours ahead in Europe.

When I eventually did awaken, I pulled on the robe I had taken out of my luggage the night before. My hair, which had been tied in a nice braid behind my head, had become unruly and undone. Loose tendrils fell around my face and stuck out at odd ends.

I yawned as I pulled on the slippers and made my way down the stairs to the kitchen. I walked quickly through the dining room where all the commotion took place last night. I tried not to think about it.

"Ah, good morning, miss," Anna happily greeted me.

I almost jumped. "Oh, Anna. You gave me a fright. I thought you'd be at church with the Cuttings."

"Can't," she answered. "I've got to get the visitor's food finished and lunch underway."

"You're not religious?" I was happy someone was finally like me – not a religion fanatic, afraid of doing good just to go to some place no one had any physical proof of. The only religion I needed was novels.

Anna shrugged. "I wouldn't say that. I believe in God and Heaven and all that. I read the good book in my own time, Miss. Toast?"

I sat on a chair in the corner. "Yes, please. Thank you."

It took me all my might to stay awake in that seat while I waited for the bread. It had to have been well past 10 o'clock in the morning but my body ached with exhaustion. The moment my bread was buttered in brought to me on a small plate, I heard the back door open as the four family members and Delores walked in.

"It's another hot one," I could hear Teddy say, probably to Anna.

"I'll make more lemonade," she told him from the kitchen.

They made their way into the kitchen, the little ones leading the way, screeching in laughter as they ran off to play. Delores chased after them.

"Good morning, Diana!" Teddy exclaimed upon seeing me in my disheveled state. Seven years ago, I might have been embarrassed to be seen in such a state by a man, but growing up in the tough towns in Europe made me numb to that. "Glad to see you've awakened. Sleep well?"

I could hear the sarcasm dripping in his voice, saturating every word. I snickered and rolled my eyes. Elizabeth laughed and took his coat from him to hang it up.

"Teddy," I said after swallowing a rather large bite, "I was wondering if you could drive me to Gramercy today? I really would like to see Mother – after all, that's the point of my return."

Elizabeth and Teddy exchanged glances nervously. All laughter and sarcasm was now out of the room.

"Are you sure about that, Di?" Elizabeth asked.

I wrinkled my brow. "Am I sure? Why, of course I'm sure!"

"It's just…" Teddy stepped forward. "Your mother, Diana, is in such a delicate state–"

I immediately stood from my seat. Any exhaustion was now burned out of my body, replaced by a fire within. "You keep saying things like that. She's _my_ mother too. Despite the quibbles we got into, she is still my mother. And I have a right to see her. Elizabeth?" I turned to my sister, hoping for support. She stayed silent, offering none. "One way or another, I will see her, whether by your driving or my walking." Despite being gone for so many years, I still remembered the map of New York like the back of my hand.

"Oh stop being so dramatic," Elizabeth finally sighed. She turned to Teddy and said, "Just take her. She'll have to see sooner or later." I saw Teddy give her the _are you sure about that?_ look. She simply nodded and they each turned back to me. "Let's all change and then he can take you."

My heart raced. Finally, what I had come to actually do was happening. I would see Mother, let her know I am alright, and be on my way soon enough back out of this country. No matter the amount of love and affection shown to me on my visit so far by Elizabeth and her beautiful family, New York was still not my home. Not anymore.

"Thank you," I tried to say calmly but it came out through a tight throat, constricted by excitement.

Surely Mother was fine. She was always fine. No illness kept Louisa Holland down for long. That woman was a warrior in her own right. When she saw me, she would be happy. Granted, that probably wouldn't be the first emotion to cross her mind. Eventually, though, she would be happy for my return. I would help her get healthy once more before leaving again. I would promise to stay out of trouble for the time I was in the city, and even beyond in Europe. Of course I could never tell her my line of work or what it was I had to go through to get my wages.

I raced back to my room where I bathed quickly (thanks to the bath drawn by Anna shortly after she made my toast) and put on the same traveling outfit as yesterday. Just as I was tying the ribbon for my hat below my chin, Elizabeth walked in and stopped in her tracks.

"You can't honestly be wearing that," she said, her voice disapproving. I felt as though I was sixteen again.

I looked down at my shirtwaist and skirt. "What's wrong with this?"

"If you don't know, then you've been gone far too long," she responded with a chuckle. "Come – I'll give you one of mine to wear."

When I first left New York, my body had still retained the softness of a child. My skin was pale and doughy, soft and plump to the touch. Now, after living with only one meal a day and little money to live off of, my skin had gained hardness and I had lost much of the excess weight I didn't know I even carried. Elizabeth had always been thin and wafer-like. She walked like a ballerina on shattered glass with her waist impossibly thin. I could never have dreamed of fitting in any dress Elizabeth had ever owned, but through her pregnancies and my weight loss, we were just about the same size.

She gave me a pale blue dress made of silk and lined in ivory. It was finer than anything I had worn in years, but I guess I had been saying that about a lot of things since my arrival back in the city. The floral ivory pattern started densely at the base of the skirt and faded as it got closer to the waist. The blouse she gave me was of matching pale blue, but made of thicker cotton. The white collar clung to my neck. By the time I was dressed, I was already sweating from the heat entering into the house.

"No one should recognize that dress – I only just bought it. I planned to use it to receive guests this afternoon, but you need it more than I do," she said. Elizabeth stood in front of me and stared right into my eyes, not even taking in how the dress fit me – still about a size too small. It cinched my waist and chest a little tighter than I would have liked. With her hands on my arms, she said in a very serious tone, "Diana, you have to be prepared for what you are about to see with Mother."

I swallowed. "You're scaring me, Liz."

"I know," she said, nodding. She sighed. "Mother has been sick for a long time, Di. Longer than Edith was telling you. It's not good."

I shook my head. "She's going to be alright though, right? Isn't she?"

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth whispered. "The doctors aren't hopeful."

I took a step back. "What's wrong with her?" I couldn't even imagine a life in which Louisa Holland was not alive.

"Are you sure you want to know?" Elizabeth said after a moment.

"Of course!" I nodded. "You said so yourself – I should be prepared."

"It's consumption."

 _Consumption_.

I had heard it whispered and gossiped about in the city and in Europe. I had never met anyone with it, but I knew from talking how terrible of an illness it was. It had no prejudices, no preferences – it attacked anyone. There had been talks of a cure but nothing concrete. My mind immediately flew into a million thoughts an hour, thinking of ways to save Mother.

"It's no use," Elizabeth said, reading my thoughts through my eyes. "Doctors have tried everything. She's not getting better."

"When was everyone going to tell me?" I asked, suddenly hurt. The letters I had received mentioned nothing of the severity of her illness. Had I not come, would they have told me at all?

"She still has some time left. We were waiting until we knew it was close to the end."

I shook my head and moved back even further. "I need to go."

She had sounded so calm – serious, but calm. Of course, she had known about this illness for longer than I. She'd had time to adjust. I hadn't.

I left the room without saying anything to her. I lifted the silk skirts and went down the stairs.

"Ready, Miss Diana?" Teddy asked at the end of the stairs. Again I said nothing to him but instead raced right by him to the back door. "Diana – your hat!"

I didn't care. I needed to see Mother, to see for myself the truth of Elizabeth's words. I had always known Penelope had a flair for the dramatic, but never Elizabeth. If what she was saying was true, I had to see it for myself. I could hear Teddy's feet chasing after me, grabbing a hat for himself.

The ride there felt longer than the sailing back to America. Dull houses, each looking like the last, went by us slowly. This time, I didn't hear the roaring of the engine or feel the shake of the body. For once since my trip, I felt totally and completely numb. I didn't know if Teddy was trying to speak to me. I heard no more words. I was stuck only inside my own thoughts.

Never once did it cross my mind that Mother would die. Of course, I _knew_ it would happen at some point, but never now. It felt too soon. I was only twenty-four years old – I wasn't ready to lose both my parents. I remembered the pain distinctly when my father died unexpectedly. I thought my world was crashing and crumbling all around me. I knew now it was only the beginning of our woes in the Holland family. Perhaps it was his death that we later found out was a murder that sparked all the changes since then – Elizabeth's marriages, my bittersweet love with Henry, and so, so much more.

I tried not to think too hard about it. It was driving me down, down… deep into a dark hole I knew I would never be able to drag myself out of. It wasn't time for Mother's death, at least not yet. There was time. I didn't know how much of it there was, but it was there.

On the drive, I didn't recognize anywhere we were. The city, while I felt it was still the exact same as when I left, had changed. Buildings were taller, larger, with barely any space between them. I once thought the city was suffocating before, but now it was even more so. Eventually, though, we turned down our street and everything was suddenly familiar again. The large, old houses lined the street each with varying dark brick on their outer walls. I saw our doorway and suddenly couldn't contain myself. Hat or no hat, I didn't care if anyone saw me. I leapt out of the automobile, Teddy probably screaming after me, and ran down the rest of the street toward our home.

Whereas the city was unrecognizable, 17 Gramercy hadn't changed one bit. The dark brick greeted me like an old friend. Our door was coated with a fresh paint of navy blue – its dark gold nob glittered in the summer sunlight and the windowpanes were covered in a light lace curtain. From the outside, it looked as though no activity were happening inside. The 7 years I was gone faded away as if it never had happened. I turned the knob and entered into the musty home. It was once so kept up, being cleaned daily by our housemaids and the like, but since we fell into financial problems after Father's death we had to make cuts to much of our staff. Elizabeth had inherited all of Cairns' money even though most of it technically belonged to Keller but not until his eighteenth birthday. She had used this money to get new maids for the house, though much less than it was once used to. I had never met these new maids – until now.

"Excuse me, Miss," one came around the corner saying. She had a sweet face, but her expressions were stern. "Can I help you?" She was old – somewhere between Mother's age and mine.

"Oh," I said, suddenly dumbfounded. I hadn't realized she had no idea who I was either and probably assumed I was some stranger barging into a wealthy home. "I'm no robber."

 _That was stupid_ , I scolded myself.

"Is there something I can help you with?" she asked again. "If not, you'd best be on your way now."

The door behind me opened again and Teddy came running in, breathless. The maid probably thought it was another obtrusive guest before she recognized him. Her face lit up and immediately changed to one of happiness.

"Mr. Cutting!" she exclaimed.

"Hello Ethel," he replied in short. "I see you've met Diana." His tone was obviously one of disapproval.

Ethel's eyes turned to me and they widened. "Diana?"

"Hi," I said meekly.

"Oh, my – please, come in!" Ethel said and began apologizing profusely.

I told her to pay no mind and Teddy and I began taking off our traveling jackets. The house was dark – the familiar cherry wood walls inside reminded me of what I used to think as a child: that this home was a crypt and I was trapped in a tomb inside.

"Diana wishes to see Mrs. Holland," Teddy told Ethel. "Is she awake?"

Ethel's eyes turned down to the ground. "She has good days and bad days, as you well know, Mr. Cutting. I'm afraid today isn't her best. She's been in and out today. The morphine the doctor gave her is keeping her sluggish all days."

I swallowed the lump that had grown in my throat while she was speaking. "Can I see her?"

"I'm afraid that's probably not what's best at this–" Ethel began saying before getting cut off by a familiar figure coming into the room.

"What's all this hold up Ethel?" Aunt Edith said. "Diana!" she exclaimed upon seeing me. She wrapped me in her arms.

Time had been kind to Aunt Edith – she looked nearly the same as when I had left. Her hair was in the same pompadour as it always was growing up. The only difference was the color. Where once it was grey, it had gone almost completely white now. The familiar lines on her face were in their exact same place, as was the glitter in her eyes.

"Oh, it's so good to see you, my child," Aunt Edith breathed into my ear. She moved back a pace. "It's been too long."

"I've missed you too, Aunt Edith," I replied in kind. Though really, as happy as I was to see her, my feet were aching to race upstairs to Mother's room. "I was wondering if I could see Mother? I've heard such awful things and I would really love to see her."

Aunt Edith took a breath in. "The doctor says it's not a good idea. He says studies have shown that consumption can be quite contagious and it's best not to risk the rest of the household's health by visiting her." My heart was breaking for Mother (something I never thought I would think). To be so severely sick and not be allowed visitors? It seemed like her own personal Hell. Aunt Edith's eyes glittered mischievously and she added, "Though you've never known me to follow much of the rules, have you?" I smiled and she said, "Go on up. I'll have them make some sandwiches for luncheon and tell everyone we are not receiving visitors this Sunday."

My smile turned into a grin. I hurriedly kissed Aunt Edith on the cheek and raced up the old, creaking stairs clutching my skirts in my hands. I reached the top of the steps and froze. To my left was Mother's room, straight ahead was Elizabeth's old room, and to my right was mine. A piece of me wanted to enter these rooms, just to see how much they had changed or if they had even changed at all. However, that piece of me was much, much smaller than the part that urged to see Mother.

It had been seven years since I've seen her or even spoken to her. No letters, no packages – nothing. She had pushed me away and acted as if Elizabeth was her one and only child from her years of marriage. I suddenly ceased to exist in her mind. Then again, perhaps she was just hurt that I had left without a word. Just as she had never reached out to me, I never quite reached out to her either. That was years ago, though – perhaps now old feelings could be put aside for these last few moments she had left on this earth.

The walk to her door was by far the longest it had ever felt. The dark wood of her door was so memorable I felt seventeen again. I touched the cold knob and turned it. The door opened slowly and stiffly, the heat from the summer expanding the wood.

The room was dark. The blinds were drawn, hiding the summer light that would fill this otherwise black room. The windows hadn't been opened in quite some time – I could tell by the musty smell in the room. The air in here hadn't moved. There were no sounds except for the shallow, squeaky breathing coming from the bed. Each step I took forward was startlingly loud. The heels of my boots were louder than I had ever heard them before. I tried to step quietly, afraid of waking her.

My mind flashed to another memory – this one not of Mother. Instead, it was at the house Snowden had bought for Elizabeth and their marriage. I had visited many times while Elizabeth was supposedly sick during her pregnancy. It felt all too familiar stepping into a dark, musty room where a lady from my family was forcibly put to sleep. I knew the doctor had no malicious intentions like Snowden did, but it gave me shivers down my spine nonetheless.

"Mother?" I whispered. I was expecting some kind of remark from her bed, but none came.

"Mother, it's me. Diana." Still silence. I figured at the mention of my name there would at lease be some ruffle. None.

I inched closer to her bed. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I could see form underneath the covers. Louisa Holland would never be classified as overweight, but after bearing the pregnancies of her two children, the loss of her husband, and the fake news of Elizabeth's death, Louisa had gained a healthy amount of weight. Seeing her in that bed, I was appalled. This woman was not the woman I had remembered as my mother. This woman was a skeleton of her. She looked as though she were already decomposing in that bed. Virtually no fat or muscle remained on her body. Skin was stuck tight to her bones. Her cheeks and eyes were so sunken I almost had to step back in shock. Her hair was so thin it barely looked like she had any at all.

"Oh, Mother," I managed, my voice tight in my throat. I sat on the edge of the bed and touched her bony hand – it was nearly ice cold. If it weren't for her raspy breathing, I wouldn't think she was alive at all.

"I'm home." My voice cracked. "I'm finally home. Can't you feel me? Can you hear me at all?"

I could physically feel my heart breaking inside my chest. Ribs splintering, stomach getting tied up in knots. Elizabeth and Teddy had tried to warn me, but nothing could have prepared me for this.

I stayed quiet for what seemed like a long time, waiting to see if she would respond at all, even just a twitch of her fingers in my hand.

"Please, say something," I begged. My voice was barely above a whisper.

Still, she remained silent. I leaned down and planted a kiss on her cheek, and another on her hand. Tears fell on to her knuckles.

 _This is your chance. Your chance to say your goodbyes_.

I didn't know if she could feel me, or even hear me. But I kept clutching her hand and said through my thick throat and tears, "Mother, I am so sorry. I'm so sorry for being such a disappointment to you and everyone. I never intended for anything like this to happen. Love just… happens. I can't control it – no one can. And I loved him. I loved – _love_ – him with everything inside of me. And I know that's not what you would want to hear, but he was everything to me. You loved Father, and Elizabeth loved William. Sometimes it's right, and sometimes it's wrong. I know I chose wrong, and I know leaving wasn't right either. But I couldn't stay here. This city isn't my home anymore." I shook my head, trying to figure out the right words to say. "Even though we have been through much together, the good and the bad – though mostly the bad – I loved you. I can only hope that you loved me, too. I think you did. I think you were just hurt that I had left, and I can understand that. I would be, too. But… please… just wake up." I had to pause to gather myself before completely losing it. I continued, "Wake up, so we can let bygones be bygones. We can be mother and daughter once more. Please."

I leaned down again and rested my forehead on her hand before silently weeping into it. I shoulder heaved with every tear escaping my eyes. I tried to stifle myself so as not to alert anyone downstairs. I was silently breaking.

"My… Di… ana…."

It was barely audible. I almost didn't hear it at all. It was the clutch tightening in my hand that alerted my eyes upwards. Her eyes were still closed, but Louisa's mouth was moving.

"Mother? Mother!" Relief flooded through me. Maybe if she was able to awaken, she was able to get better. There was hope.

"Di…" she whispered.

I grabbed her hand tighter and inched closer to her. "I'm here. Oh, I'm here Mother."

Suddenly, I heard doors opening and closing rather loudly downstairs and some shuffling. I tried not to pay any mind to it, but through the muffled words, I could hear one name that immediately drew me.

"Henry, stop." Teddy was speaking, and Ethel was quickly saying something as well but her voice was too quiet.

I jumped up from the bed and padded quietly to the door. I pressed my ear to it, hoping to gather more information.

"She's here?"

I put all my weight on the side of the door to keep myself from falling down. It was him. It was his voice. I would recognize it anywhere. I used the handle of the door to steady myself.

"Henry, what are you going on about?" Teddy responded. He was obviously trying to keep Henry calm.

"I know she's here, Teddy. Damn it, let me see her." He was anxious and on the verge of yelling.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Teddy was keeping his voice low and calm. I was grateful then. I didn't want Henry seeing me, especially in the state I was. I was a wet, blubbering mess. "Can't you see the ruckus you're causing? This is not the place. This is the last thing Mrs. Holland needs."

"I know what I saw!" His voice suddenly rose when he yelled, "DIANA! I know you're up there."

Steps toward the stairs were heard, and I inched back from the door.

"Henry, _stop_." The steps stopped just as soon as they had started. I could only assume Teddy had grabbed him.

"She's here," Henry said, quieter this time, "isn't she?"

There was a long pause. _Please_ , I wanted to say, _Please don't tell him_.

Finally, Teddy spoke, "If she wants to see you, she will find you."

Another long silence. Minutes passed, but it felt like hours. No one said a word, no one moved an inch. I didn't even know if I was breathing or holding my breath.

 _Don't come up here_ , I begged in my mind. _Just leave_.

"Fine." One word was all Henry said. I heard the steps retreating from the stairs and the doors slam on his way out.

It was then I realized that Ι _was_ holding my breath. I let out a huge breath of air. I slid down the door and sat on the ground. I brought my knees up to my chest and held them close. I rested my forehead on my knees and tried, unsuccessfully, to hold back the tears.

Nothing was as it should be. Mother shouldn't be dying. Henry shouldn't know I'm back. Everything was falling apart, and I had only been here for a day. I suddenly wondered if I would actually be here for two weeks. Would Mother last that long? Would I?

I stood up from the ground and walked back to her bed. I sat on the edge and took her hand in mine again.

"Mother?" I called again.

It was no use. She was in her deep sleep once more.


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

 **For everything that's lovely is**

 **But a brief, dreamy, kind delight.**

-W.B. Yeats, 1904.

Mother didn't say anything else for the duration of the time I sat beside her. I tried coaxing her again and again, but she was as still as ever. The darkness of the room began to get to me – my eyes were drooping and it took all my will power to stay awake, just in case she became conscious again.

I must have dozed off for a moment though because the next thing I knew, Ethel's hand was on my shoulder, gently nudging me awake.

"Pardon, miss," she said when I'd lifted my head off the bed. I was still sitting in a chair, clutching Mother's hand.

"Oh," I said, embarrassed, "I'm sorry."

"The doctor is here to give her more medicine." I looked toward the door and there he was, case in hand and all. "There is some luncheon downstairs if you would like anything to eat."

I rubbed my eyes, forcing myself awake. "Yes," I said to no one in particular, "that sounds good."

Downstairs, Teddy and Aunt Edith were in the parlor, quietly talking. They quieted down the moment I entered the room.

"How is she?" Teddy asked, standing.

I only shook my head and sat down in a chair I later realized I had never seen before.

"Ethel should be down in a moment with some food for you," Edith said, her face more serious than I had ever seen her.

I covered my eyes with my hands, blocking out the brightness from the Sunday sun exploding through the windows. I could have sat there, in complete and utter silence, for the duration of my life. Not a sound entered into my ear, only the feeling of my chest rising and falling as I breathed and soothed my nerves. However, that was a brief fantasy and if I had learned anything in the last nearly-decade, it was that fantasies existed solely in novels and never in real life.

"I heard him," I said quietly, my eyes still covered. I didn't want to look at them. They knew exactly whom I spoke of.

No one said anything. I could only imagine the expressions on their faces, probably glancing at the other to gauge how they should respond. How could I have _not_ heard him? He was practically screaming up the stairs, breaking my already shattered heart.

It was Teddy who spoke up.

"I'm so sorry, Diana," he said.

I lifted my hands away from my eyes. "I know."

"Here you are, miss," Ethel said, bringing me a small plate of food. I took the plate and she exited the room again, leaving us to our silence.

Shortly after, the doctor came down from upstairs, said his goodbyes, and left the house. We still sat in our long silence, everyone unsure of what to say next.

"How long will you be staying, Diana?" Aunt Edith finally asked.

I looked at Teddy, wanting so bad to tell the truth of the length of my visit but I wasn't even sure anymore of the truth of that anymore. Two weeks was hardly enough time now that I had seen the true state of Mother.

"I'm not sure," I answered. "As long as Lizzie and Teddy will have me, I suppose."

Small smiles lit up both their faces then. I finished the small sandwich and lemonade Ethel had brought me and slowly stood.

"Teddy, if you don't mind, I think I'd like to go back now. I'm quite tired." The voice that came out of me had no emotion whatsoever. It fell flat on all the ears in the room but I didn't care. The house that had once stifled me so much was beginning to do so again.

We left the house and I kept my head low, Elizabeth's had blocking my face from any viewers who might recognize me. I had been foolish before, running to the house. Who knows who else saw me? I wondered briefly if my old friend at the Gamesome Gallant had now gotten news of my arrival. I told myself I would write him a note when I got back to Elizabeth's home to beg him not to write of me in the Monday morning column. I wanted to be invisible for just a while longer.

Back inside the vehicular beast, I wanted to ask Teddy so terribly what Henry had been up to since I had left, but I couldn't bring myself to say the words. I didn't want the answers. Not yet, at least. The ignorant and blissful world I had enveloped myself in for all those years still followed me, clinging to my ribs and clutching my heart. I wanted to stay inside that cage for just a while longer.

I couldn't speak to Elizabeth when I got into the house, nor did she come to me to ask anyways. I didn't know if she was even home. I went straight back to my bedroom. There was a small desk right by the window that faced the street. People walked idly by, not even glancing at the house I was in. I stood there for a while, watching them. I wondered if I knew any of them. Surely I must have met some of them at some party or another, their faces changed after years of absence. Then I wondered if anyone remembered me anymore. Was all my hiding for nothing? Was everyone lying when they said the whole city was talking about my return?

 _Elizabeth didn't want you to feel forgotten_ , my mind told me.

I thought I had wanted to feel forgotten. I thought I wanted to be invisible. But now, I wasn't so sure. What did it matter? The reason I had wanted to stay under detection was because of Henry. Now that he knew, was there even a point?

Then again, I didn't want to talk to Henry. Not yet, at least. And for that, I needed my movements around the city to go unnoticed. I knew that if anywhere posted my whereabouts, Henry would find a way to get there to talk to me. I didn't know what I would say to him yet, or even if I _ever_ wanted to say anything to him. So for that, I sat down at the desk, pulled out a piece of paper, and began writing.

Dear Mr. Barnard,

It has been some time since I have spoken to you. I believe the last correspondence you and I had was shortly after I had arrived in Paris all those years ago. You spoke highly of La Petite Chaise and requested I order their onion soup and steak tartare. You told me, and I quote, 'You will never taste anything so fine again.' You were right – I never did. I found myself going to that restaurant for months when I had enough money to buy such a meal. I cannot thank you enough.

I am sorry, though, that my writings became less and less until they ceased. Life became complicated – more so than usual. You really were a great friend and confidant through all the time I knew you. I think you were the only person I could really, truly trust. You let me live my dreams, for just a little while, and let me believe the world was much brighter than it really was. Again, I thank you.

You may notice that this letter is coming from somewhat a different address; one you might even recognize. You have probably written many stories by now about my arrival and return that are just waiting for the Monday morning papers. You must have them edited and finalized by now, ready for mass consumption. I must beg you, Davis – please, do not write about me. Not yet. There are things I must tie up before I allow you to publish them. I know I have been a terrible friend these last few years but – please – let me try and make things right. Perhaps we could even collaborate again on a project in the future. You have been on my heart and mind so much. I hope this is not too much of a burden.

Your humble friend,

Diana Holland

I read the letter nearly five times before finally folding it and slipping it inside an envelope. I wrote Davis Barnard's address (which I had hoped hadn't changed) and Elizabeth's in the corner. I stood and exited the bedroom. I bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen where Anna was eagerly preparing supper.

"Anna, could I be so terrible as to ask you for a favor?" I asked.

She turned away from the counter where she was cutting up some carrots, surprised by my entrance. Her face was flush.

"Of course, Miss."

"I know you're busy, but is there any way you could deliver this letter? I know it's Sunday so there is no mail but I _really_ must get this letter out before tomorrow."

She looked reluctant. "Um, well–"

I butted in, "I'll pay you. I'll help with supper. I'll do anything, really. Please, I just need it delivered tonight. The address really isn't far from here. You'll be back within the hour. Oh! And try to be discreet – I would deliver it myself but I don't want all the hubbub about me being back to start flying just yet."

She sighed. "Alright I suppose. But there's no need to pay me, Miss. But if you wanted to finish peeling and dicing these carrots for the soup tonight, that would be a great help." She pointed to the basket she had been pulling from.

I smiled greatly. "Thank you, Anna, so much. You have no idea."

I handed her the letter and she peered at the address. "Davis Barnard?"

"Old friend."

She nodded. "Alright. I'll be back soon." She paused and looked between the carrots and me.

"What?" I asked.

"You… you know how to peel carrots, right? And cut them?"

I smiled, hiding a laugh. "Yes, Anna, I do."

She nodded, trusting me, and left the room out the back door after grabbing her hat.

The carrots took me no time at all. Anna had already finished half of them before I barged in. When I finished, I looked for the recipe she was using to see if I could help with any other tasks but I couldn't find it anywhere. She must have it memorized; maybe it was Teddy or Elizabeth's favorite. I washed my hands and dried them, looking around the kitchen. I realized then how quiet it was. Keller and Evelyn where nowhere to be seen or heard. I left the kitchen and glanced around – still no sound. The house was eerily quiet. I also realized I hadn't properly seen the entire property yet, aside from where I had already been. I took this moment to walk around the house and learn about it.

After leaving the kitchen, there was a large dining room complete with a table big enough to fit half of New York. A crystal chandelier dripped from the ceiling, casting rainbows around the room from the large window that let in the Sunday afternoon light. The window, like mine in my bedroom, faced the street. People were still busy walking by, making their Sunday visits before suppertime. To my right was a passageway that led to the main entrance of the home. That's where the stairs were to the upstairs bedrooms. Instead of going up, though, I continued straight through another passageway and into the parlor room. Worn (but ornate, possibly secondhand) furniture lined the room, all centered on the fireplace that was probably lit everyday during the winter months. Above the mantle, a portrait of the Cutting family hung. It must have been commissioned a few years ago because little Evie was a newborn in the portrait. At first I couldn't pinpoint what had made me feel so different toward the painting than any other portrait I had seen before until I realized what it was – it was something so small, so minute, that had I not been staring intently at it, I would have missed it.

Elizabeth and Teddy were smiling.

People in portraits never smiled. They had to hold a position for so long that, really, smiling was just too much of a hassle. But for some reason, both Lizzie and Teddy were smiling. And the artist captured hers perfectly. I raised my hand and touched her cheek lightly. It had been so long since I had seen that smile – not even one of happiness, just of pure contentedness. I hadn't seen that side of Lizzie for years.

Other portraits hung around the room – one of Evie around the same time as the other portrait, her chubby, rosy cheeks a defining feature. Another of Keller when he was younger, too. Elizabeth must have somehow managed to convince Mother to have the portrait of her and Father as well, because it hung on the wall close to the entrance of the room. It was the same one that had hung for my entire life back at Gramercy in Father's library. The year he died, I spent every day in the room locked away with his books. When I wasn't reading, though, I stared intently at that painting, trying to remember him as young as he looked in the picture.

I kept walking through the room. There was a door along the wall next to the fireplace. It was a thick, dark wood that looked important with a crystal doorknob. I twisted it open and almost yelped in surprise.

"Oh! Teddy, I didn't know anyone was here," I said, catching my breath.

He looked up from his desk with a smile. "You gave me a bit of a fright too. I thought you were tired? I had assumed you went up to bed for a rest before supper." He took the glasses that balanced on the edge of his nose off and placed them on the desk.

"I had to write a letter," I told him.

"And you came down here to…?"

I noticed he had papers scattered around and judging by the red marks on either side of his nose from his glasses, he was doing something important.

"Oh!" I said again, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. Please, go back to work." I began stepping out of his office but he waved me back in.

"Nonsense, Diana. Please, come in. This isn't work; I was just going over some financial papers from the oil site. Nothing too important."

"Are you sure?"

He smiled again at me. "Yes, positive."

I tentatively stepped back into the office and closed the door behind me. I glanced around the room.

Though his office wasn't as filled as Father's, books still lined the walls. The cabinets under them probably held many important papers. I walked around the room, reading the many titles on books. I didn't recognize any, mostly because they were about finances or oil engineering.

"Diana?" Teddy asked eventually.

I spun around. "Yes?" I realized he had been looking at me for the entire time.

"Can I help you with something?"

"What?"

"I mean, did you come in here for something?"

"Oh," I said, stepping away from the books. "No, sorry. I was just… I hadn't looked around the house much. I just wanted to see everything. Where is Elizabeth? And the kids?"

He sat back down in his chair and said, "Well, Lizzie thought that such a beautiful day ought not to go to waste, so she took Delores and the kids to the park. She'll be back in time for supper."

"It gets quiet here."

He chuckled. "Yes, it does. Almost peaceful. But then I remember how lonely silence can be. The moment they walk through that door…" He shook his head. "It's the best part of my day."

I smiled at him, wondering how such a lovely man could exist in this world marred by pain and suffering.

"Whom did you write to?" he asked.

"Sorry?"

"You said you had to write a letter. Whom did you write to?"

"Oh, I have a friend that writes for the Gallant. I just asked him not to write anything about me yet."

"Why?"

I wondered to myself that same question again. Instead I brushed it off by saying, "Our family has lived in harmony in this city for the past 7 years. The last thing I want is for us to go under the bridge again because of me."

"Di…"

I shook my head. "My leaving this city caused our family irreparable harm. I couldn't do it again."

"This wouldn't have anything to do with Henry, would it?" he asked quietly.

My heart stopped for a moment when his name was said. "Teddy, I really don't want to talk about it if you don't mind."

Teddy sighed and sat back in his chair. "Fine, we don't have to. But let me at least say this – he was never the same after you left. He still isn't."

A small part of me was satisfied with him saying that. Henry had always seemed like this untouchable god that I could forever lust after but never actually have. To know _I_ was the one who left a lasting impact on him felt incredible. But a larger part of me broke at those words. I wanted him to have a life after me, even if it broke me to see him with another woman. I wanted him to find his pure happiness in the world. But almost ironically, I was the one that took that all away from him.

I was quiet for a long time. I had turned back to the books to keep Teddy from reading my face. He was always good at that. For once, I didn't want him to analyze me or try to make me feel better.

"He wants to talk to you," Teddy added.

"Please," I begged, my voice just barely above a whisper, "don't."

"Di…"

I quickly left the room before I could hear him say anything else.

I turned to the left after re-entering the parlor, where it went into a small room. Two walls were covered with windows, letting in the bright Sunday afternoon light. I could see the shed where Teddy parked his automobile and their vast yard expanding outward until it hit a tree line. The floor of the room was littered with children's toys. It still stunned me that Elizabeth had – not one – but _two_ children, and she was only two years older. Since I felt I was intruding on the children's room, I quickly excused myself the same way I had come in. Once the entirety of the downstairs was explored, I returned upstairs and got myself out of Elizabeth's dress. I was able to breathe once more. I changed back into my plain clothing that I felt much more at ease in.

The moment I was fully dressed, a knock came at my door.

"Come in." I turned towards the door to see Anna.

"Hi Miss," she said. "I delivered your letter. Mr. Barnard answered the door and I gave it to him. I made sure it as him before I did."

I smiled politely. "Thank you, Anna. I'm sorry to keep you from your work."

"He's quite charming, isn't he?" she said. "Mr. Barnard?"

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Oh, I know."

She was about to turn out when she stopped. "Oh! Someone on the street asked about you."

"What? Who?"

My heart sank – who else saw me today? Who else knew I was here?

Anna shrugged. "I don't know. I asked for their name but they walked away without giving it."

"What did they want?" I asked urgently. "What did you say?'

"They simply wondered if it was true if you were home. I told them I had no idea what they were talking about."

I sighed in relief. "Thank you, Anna. Again. I'm sorry to have put you in that position."

"It's no problem, Miss."

"Anna?"

"Yes?"

"One last thing – was it a man or woman who stopped you?"

"A man."

I nodded. "Thank you. You may go back to the kitchen now."

She turned and left the room and I stumbled back and sat on the edge of the neatly made bed. I put my cold fingers to my forehead to soothe my thoughts. Henry was still looking for me – I should really see him sooner rather than later. Or at the very least write to him. But what would I say? "I'm sorry"? Somehow, that didn't seem to convey what I wanted, because I really wasn't sorry. I thought back to that day every day for seven years, wondering if I made the right choice and each time I do, I know I would have made the same decision. Nothing would have made me stay here.

 _You're back now_ , I reminded myself, _that has to mean something_.

But I wasn't back for him, I told myself. I was back for Mother.

The sound of doors opening and children laughing and screaming below interrupted my thoughts then. I stood from the bed, happy to have the distraction. I left the room and went downstairs where I saw Teddy and Elizabeth exchange a light kiss in greeting. Delores was shuffling the kids through the kitchen and into the side hallway, where I now knew their play room was situated. I paused inside the dining room, peering into the kitchen where Elizabeth and Teddy where still closely embracing, talking quietly to each other with bright smiles on their faces. Finally, Elizabeth saw me over Teddy's shoulder.

"Di!" she said, as if still surprised by my presence. She took a small step away from her husband. "How was Mother?"

I shook my head. "Horrible," I said, my voice wavering.

Elizabeth's face suddenly went serious. She glanced at Teddy before saying, "Dear, would you excuse us? I'm sure Anna could use some help with supper."

He nodded and Elizabeth took my elbow and escorted me to their parlor room. We each took a seat facing the empty fireplace. The sun was dipping below the horizon now, and the summer insects were buzzing outside.

"So tell me – was it what you were expecting?" Elizabeth asked, finally breaking the silence.

I shook my head, bewildered. "No. Nothing like I was expecting. Elizabeth, why didn't you _tell_ me how bad it was?"

"I told you earlier – we were waiting to see how bad it was. She really wasn't in this sort of state when I last sent a letter. She's just… gone down since then. Very rapidly."

I looked away from her, to my hands folded in my lap. I took the time to look at each cheap stitch in my skirt to distract me.

"It was terrible, Liz. It's like she's… like she's…" I couldn't bring myself to say the words. Elizabeth reached out immediately and covered my hands with hers. "She did say my name."

"What?"

I looked up again. "Mother said my name. When I got there I told her whom I was. She was asleep so I wasn't sure if she heard me – but she did. At least I think so. It was so quite I thought I imagined it at first, but then she said it again."

"She was awake?" Elizabeth asked.

I shook my head. "No, I don't think so. Or if she was, she wasn't fully."

"That's good, Di!" Liz said encouragingly.

"Do you think she knows?" I asked. "That I'm here, I mean."

Elizabeth took her hands back and snorted. "She hasn't spoken your name in seven years. If she said it, she knows."

"How long has she been… sleeping?"

Elizabeth sighed, thinking. "About a week or so. She was having a lot of difficulty breathing, from what Edith told me. The doctor said this was the best course of action now – just making her comfortable. I was going to write you yesterday, actually, to tell you the truth."

"And she hasn't spoken at all during that time?"

She shook her head. "Not aside from the occasional cough or moan."

"So," I said, sitting closer to the edge of my chair, "do you think this means she's getting better? Now that she's said my name?"

Liz looked disappointed then. "Diana, I really don't think you should be getting your hopes–"

"I mean, it has to mean something right?"

"Diana, stop," Elizabeth said abruptly. My lips sealed shut, knowing I wouldn't want to know the next words she said. "Mother isn't going to get better. She will probably never be awake again."

My eyes stung with tears. "You can't say that for certain."

"We can."

I shook my head. "No. No, that's not… that's not possible. She – she just spoke! Today! She said my name."

"I know," Elizabeth said in a calming tone. I could see her using it on one of her children when they were upset as well. She was treating me like an infant. "I know."

"I have so much I want to tell her…" My voice cracked and a tear slipped down my cheek. "I need to apologize. For everything."

"She already knows everything you have wanted to say."

"What?"

"Aunt Edith and I read her your letters. Granted, we left some of the more… exciting… bits out. But she knew. She knows."

I remembered the countless times I apologized to them both for leaving so suddenly, and the numerous times I told them how much I wished Mother would forgive me as well. To know that they managed to forward that to Mother meant the world.

"She forgave you, a long time ago," she said.

"Why didn't she write me then?"

"Oh," she said with a wave of her hand, "you know Mother. Stubborn to the last. Perhaps she thought the guilt would eventually drive you home."

I couldn't tell if she was lying or telling the truth, but I didn't want to find out. If she was lying, I was happy.

"Liz? Di?" Teddy said, peering into the room. "Supper's ready."

Liz patted my hand one last time. "Shall we?"

I wiped under my eye and nodded. "Let's."

She took my hand in hers and clutched it tightly while we walked to the dining room and took our seats.


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

 **It appears as though the beautiful Carolina Broud will again host her infamous Independence Day soirée this coming Thursday. Who can forget the patriotic firework show from last year? The booms and crackles of them could be heard as far as Staten Island. How could one** ** _possibly_** **compare to this year? I have heard that this year's guest list has become far more exclusive than years' past and that not even her closest friends have yet been invited. Details have been very few and far between – I have only just heard that Miss Carolina will be hosting the event. The details as to where and when are still hidden from the public. Though I do have my insiders who are sure to tell me everything as soon as they are able.**

-From the "Gamesome Gallant" column in the _New York Imperial_ , Monday, July 1, 1907

* * *

I raced as fast as my legs could carry me down to the kitchen where the papers awaited reading. No one was up yet, aside from Anna who, by the smell of it, was making omelets. The smell of meat and vegetables steamed up from the pan and into the air, instantly making my mouth water. I had barely touched my supper from the night before; my mind was in too much of a tizzy to feel the pangs of hunger. Now, though, my body was fully awake and alert.

I flipped through the pages of the paper until I read a large "SOCIAL" title at the top. I stopped and read Mr. Barnard's piece and was relieved to find he had heeded my letter. At least for now. Though he was a close friend, he was also a man who knew what the people wanted, and the people _died_ for drama. I had been the drama of the weekend. He probably knew people were biting at the bit to hear of my arrival and mischievous deeds. I even surprised myself that I had not gotten into some sort of trouble yet – usually, it found its way to me.

"You alright, Miss?" Anna asked. She had probably been looking at me for a while, maybe even the moment I walked into the room.

I glanced up from the paper. "Yes, why?"

She pointed to the window, where the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon, illuminating the deep, green grass that was a sign of a wet summer. Droplets of dew lit up the lawn, making it shimmer almost like a lake.

"It's quite early."

I set down the paper, satisfied with my reading. "Perhaps I'm still on Europe time."

Anna shrugged and turned back to her omelets. "Got any plans today, Miss? I've heard it's supposed to be quite nice."

"Oh?" I feigned interest. "No, no plans. I might visit Mother again." She had done so well when I first visited her, perhaps if I kept going she could get better. Despite everything Elizabeth had told me yesterday, I knew there had to be some hope.

"Oh, Diana," said a surprised Delores coming into the kitchen with two energetic children following by her side, "nice to see you awake so early."

I shook my head with a sly chuckle. "Everyone is, apparently."

Delores set the children at the table and began grabbing plates for everyone. "Well," she said, "even as a child you ran on your own schedule. Never got up on time or came down to meals when you were supposed to."

"I'm a grown woman now, Delores," I grumbled, but knew she was right. Even just a few days ago in Europe, I was still doing the same – sleeping late and going to bed even later sometimes.

"Call me Del," she said, setting the table in front of the three of us. Keller and Evie were squirming uncontrollably in their seats, nearly screaming for their food. By the looks on their faces and the groans that escaped their little lips, anyone would have thought these children had been starving for days.

Soon after, Elizabeth and Teddy both came down in their robes and embraced the children, planting a kiss on each of their foreheads. I sensed a little tension when Teddy bent down to kiss Keller, but I was convinced it was my exhaustion that got to me then.

Anna completed the omelets – four with eggs and cheese, one littered with bacon and ham, and two plain eggs. Delores helped to hand out the dishes. The cheese omelets went to the children, Delores, and Anna, meat to Teddy, and the two plain ones to Elizabeth and me. I looked down on my plate, disappointed.

"Sorry," Anna immediately apologized when she saw my face, "I didn't know what kind you would like. I assumed you would be like Elizabeth."

I faked a smile and grabbed my fork. "Oh, it's alright." I looked enviously at Teddy's. Reluctantly, he forked over a piece or two of ham and bacon and my heart was happy once more.

The sun was radiating into the room now, beaming through the eastern-facing window.

"Elizabeth?" I asked formally.

Liz completed the small mouthful of omelet and said, "Yes, Di?"

"I was wondering – is there a way I could borrow another dress of yours?"

She outright laughed. "I never thought the day would come that I would hear those words spoken out of Diana Holland's mouth."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh please," I said, "I want to visit Mother again and I figure if she wakes up again, she'll want to see me properly dressed."

Elizabeth was still smiling, and I realized everyone around the table was as well. Was it really that difficult to believe? The last thing Mother would ever want to see me in was the plain traveling clothes I had worn for as long as I could remember. I had realized early on in my adventures in Europe that if one wanted to remain undetected, the best way was to dress as plainly as possible. I had thrown out any frivolous clothing I did not absolutely need. That, and it made the traveling a lot easier as well without all the luggage.

"No," Elizabeth said a moment later.

"No?"

She couldn't stop smiling. "If you want to dress like a lady again, you'll have to do it the old fashioned way."

I could tell where this conversation was leading and I wanted to excuse myself from the table that instant. "Oh, please. Liz, no."

"There's a newer store that opened around the time you left. All the best-dressed ladies go there to get their dresses made. They have ready-made dresses as well to tide you over until your tailored ones are finished."

"I don't have the money to get a ready-made _or_ a customized dress, Liz. Please just let me borrow one more of yours. I promise I won't ask again."

Elizabeth _tsk_ -ed. "I'm sorry, Di. It's just the way it has to be. I can't keep you holed up in here forever. I'll call you a taxi when you've finished with your breakfast."

"Speaking of," Teddy said, finishing the last bite of his omelet and standing, "I should best be getting to the office now. Anna – lovely meal as always." He kissed Keller and Evelyn on their foreheads and kissed Elizabeth deeply, making Evie and Keller groaned in disgust.

He left the table and went upstairs. I looked back at Elizabeth, knowing how stubborn she was. There was no way she would go any other route other than the one she had planned herself. It was useless trying to persuade her otherwise.

Just by talking about it, I could tell Elizabeth was excited. She continued on after Teddy left, "I'll even go with you. Oh, wouldn't that be fun? It will be just like we used to do. Don't you remember?"

Sure, I remembered. Although it was usually Elizabeth and Penelope that were excited to go dress shopping, not me. I was just dragged along because Mother forced me to go with them. Honestly, I dreaded the whole experience. Nothing in that regard has changed.

I ate the rest of my omelet slowly, dreading the time when I would have to go upstairs and get ready to go _shopping_. I hadn't done any genuine shopping in… well, I couldn't even recall. I had the clothes I traveled with for at least a few years. If ever they got worn down too much and a hole exposed itself, I would either sew it up myself or find a scrap piece of cloth to sew over it. I could only imagine the shock and despair that Mother or sister would have experience if it had been them. Instead of investing a little bit of time in fixing the small thing, they would instead go out and buy a new one. Being out on my own thrilled me in that way – I was no longer attached to that kind of living anymore. I was my own person; my own individual being who made her own choices. Sure, it was hard and horrifying at times but I persevered.

Delores took the kids to their playroom beside the kitchen and Elizabeth helped Anna pick up the plates on the table.

"Oh, won't this be fun, Di?" she said again. I feigned a smile. "Mother would be so happy. Anna, would you mind drawing a bath for Diana? I can finish here."

I almost burst out laughing. Elizabeth? Cleaning? But she did. She took to the sink as Anna walked away and began scrubbing the plates clean.

"You've changed," I said, surprised. I didn't even mean to say it out loud.

"What?" Liz said, turning to me. I was standing behind her, leaning on the counter a bit.

I shook my head. "I've been having this image of you in my head – essentially just like Mother, only younger. You know, stern, cold, ordering servants around…" I shook my head. This really wasn't the Elizabeth I had contrived in my head.

She didn't say anything, just looked at me, shocked as well but probably for different reasons.

"Oh," was all she eventually said before turning back to the sink.

I left the kitchen and made my way upstairs back to my room. Anna was finishing up the bath in the room connected to mine. When it was finished, she exited the room and left me to myself. I took my time, biding it away before I had to sell my soul for a dress. I had thought these days were behind me, but I had somehow willingly walked back into this old life. I couldn't get how excited Elizabeth was out of my mind. This would make her happy, I knew that. So I would do it for her. I wouldn't enjoy it by any means, but I would begrudgingly do it for her.

I put back on my plain traveling clothes – the brown skirt, white shirt with a crisp collar. I even put a small black ribbon around my neck and tied it in a small bow to hang down the center of my shirt. I only did it on occasions when I needed to look nicer and I figured Elizabeth would appreciate it. Anna knocked on my door shortly after I was dressed to let me know the taxi had arrived. I had seen Teddy leave shortly prior in his automobile.

I was surprised how quiet Elizabeth was on the drive into Manhattan. She peered out the window the bumpy taxi without saying a word until we were just moments away.

"Did you mean what you said?" she suddenly asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… when we were in the kitchen. Did you mean it when you said you had thought I would be cold like Mother?"

I recalled how much more Elizabeth had gotten along with Mother than me. It hadn't even occurred to me that she would be hurt by the words I said about Mother. "Well, I didn't really mean–"

"I didn't know you thought that low of me, Di." The way she said it made my heart break a little. She was so wounded and hurt, her voice barely above a whisper.

I was silent for a moment in shock. I quickly gathered myself and responded, "Liz! No, that's not what I meant at all. I just… I had thought you would be more…" I couldn't find the right words to seem less harsh. "You were so strong when we were younger. And it's not that you're weak now. The home you and I had grown up in was so different. We had rules and expectations to follow constantly. In your home, everyone seems so much freer. It's not bad! In fact, I'm sure I've never seen two kids more happy in my life."

I saw her take in what I said, but she still didn't seem completely convinced.

"Okay," she said and turned back to the window again, watching the buildings go by. Her ivory hand was delicately below her small, rounded chin, her wedding band glistening in the light.

"I promise," I said, "I didn't mean it in the way you think. You're a wonderful mother, Elizabeth."

"You really don't have to be so hard on Mother you know," she said, still quietly.

"Elizabeth…"

"She's done a lot for you and I. After Father died, she did everything she could to keep this family above high water."

"Including marrying you off to the man who murdered our father and concocted the murder of your first husband," I said offhandedly. I regretted it the moment it was out.

Elizabeth's face snapped toward me, her mouth slightly agape. "How _dare_ you."

"No–" I groaned, wishing I could take it all back. "God, this is all coming out so wrong. I know Mother has done everything she deemed was right in the situation. I couldn't even imagine what she had to go through with us growing up – with _me_ growing up. I surely didn't make anything easy."

"Why are you here, Diana?" she asked.

I sighed. "I know it doesn't sound like it, but I'm here to make amends with Mother."

"You're right," she scoffed, "it doesn't sound like it."

There wasn't much else I could have said, so I kept my mouth shut. God knows anything I would say would backfire and just make the situation worse. She was so happy earlier just to go shopping with me, and now she was a completely different person.

The taxi pulled up to a large building with huge gold letters out front saying BERGDORF GOODMAN above the front doors. The name rang no bell in my mind, but Elizabeth had said it opened right around the time I left. I recognized the street though – it was the same street that held the Lord & Taylor where Carolina had met the thief and blackmailer Tristan who eventually ruined her proposed marriage to Leland Bouchard. Also on the street was the Tiffany & Co. where Henry had bought Elizabeth's, Penelope's, and my engagement rings. I tried not to dwell too much on those thoughts for the fear that I would get sucked into a dark hole.

Elizabeth paid the taxi driver handsomely as we both walked out. The building in front of me was larger than any other store on the street. It towered above me, seeming to reach the heavens.

"Welcome back, Mrs. Cutting!" a handsome man greeted from the front doors. I was worried for a moment that it was Tristan but his eyes were a deep brown instead of the icy blue Carolina always described.

"Edward, how are you?" Elizabeth said, sauntering up to him with a grin plastered on her face. She was always good at wearing masks.

"I'm doing wonderfully, thank you," the man – Edward – replied. He turned to me. "And who is this young woman?" I could hear his distaste the moment he looked at me and saw my outfit.

"Edward, this is my sister, Diana."

Suddenly, his voice and face changed to that of a happier man. Yet another mask another person is wearing. He stepped forward and took my small hand into his deeply tanned one and kissed my knuckles. "Lovely to meet you at last, Miss Diana."

 _At last?_ I looked at Elizabeth but she wasn't looking at me. Instead, she was waiting for Edward to open the front doors, which he eagerly did when he noticed.

"What are we shopping for today, ladies? We just got our fall colors and furs in just last week. I could bring a few samples to you if you'd like?" he offered.

"Please, thank you," Elizabeth said, continuing her courteous tone.

Edward nodded and trotted off after we entered through the doors. I nearly gasped at what I saw. Dozens of large crystal chandeliers dripped from the ceiling, larger than I had ever seen before. The huge department store seemed to go on forever. Wealthy women were scattered throughout the store, eyeing silks and furs, with each having a handsome boy trotting after them. The walls were a rich taupe with gold fleur-de-lis engravings crawling up to the silk draped ceiling. I had the feeling of being inside the world's most luxurious and ridiculous circus. I realized then how terrible I must look compared to everyone else inside Bergdorf Goodman. In the far back of the store, a golden railing and marble stairs led down into a basement that probably housed the hundreds of seamstresses.

"We will get you a couple ready-mades and have a few created as well," Elizabeth said, but she didn't look at me and her voice seemed far away. The polite smile she'd had on for Edward had disappeared.

"Lizzie," I begged, wanting to apologize further.

She held her petite hand up to stop me. "Let's just get through this."

I swallowed my words and just nodded. I nervously glanced around wondering if anyone I knew would be in the store. More nervously, I wondered if Penelope Schoonmaker, née Hayes, would be in the store. After all, this was the exact kind of place she would spend her days.

"Diana?" Elizabeth called, her voice far away. I hadn't even realized she had walked away. I found her near the ivory lace, eyeing a strip covered with floral and ivy designs. I walked slowly toward her, looking at everyone in the store. Luckily, no one seemed to notice or acknowledge me. "What about this?" she asked laying it on her arm and letting it drape almost to the floor.

I made a face. "It looks so… bridal."

Elizabeth sighed. "You don't have to go all white. You can layer them on top of another color – say, navy."

I wanted to keep her spirits, up, so I put on a smile and nodded.

Edward returned then with a few other gentlemen, all with their hands filled with dozens of fabrics and colors. I let Elizabeth take the lead in selecting patterns, colors, furs, and everything else. She had always been the one with an eye for fashion whereas I would have loved to be anywhere else. They measured me all over for gloves and hats. Shoes were slipped on and off my feet endlessly. Everything seemed to speed by but at the same time, it felt as though it lasted ages. I felt like the sun was lying when I looked out the window and could tell from peoples' shadows on the pavement that it was perched in the middle of the sky. In the end, Elizabeth had purchased three ready-made dresses for me – two afternoons and one evening. Then she ordered another half dozen tailor-made custom gowns for me and another half dozen for herself. She had forced me out of my travel outfit and into one ready-made that was a plain cream and blush pink. The bodice was striped with the two colors, with lace overlaying the cream. The lace was similar to the design that Elizabeth had pulled out earlier. The skirt was made of a light beige crepe that flowed lightly and allowed my legs a chance to breathe in the stifling heat of the summer. It had lace sleeves that reached just below the elbow, matching the design on the bodice. The lace collar crept up my neck, though since the dress wasn't tailored to my body it was loose and allowed me more movement than a normal dress would.

Along with the new dress, Elizabeth also paid for a new corset and shoes, both of which I was uncomfortably wearing. An ivory, wide-brimmed hat was perched on my head, secured with a light pink satin ribbon tied beneath my chin. Despite being dressed like this for the first eighteen years of my life, I was unused to it now at age twenty-four. When I first arrived in Europe after leaving, I had managed to keep up with the latest trends in fashion but I soon realized that with no one watching me every day and caring for me, I no longer cared. I then dressed as plainly as I could to get by – no furs, hats, gloves or luxurious fabrics. I stuck mostly to variations of beige in cotton, wool, or muslin. I no longer bought new items every week, Now I would consider it rare if I bought anything within a month.

"Don't you feel better now, Diana?" Elizabeth asked as we walked out of the store. Edward already had her address on file to deliver everything so we didn't have to carry bags with us.

"Oh, I feel something," I said breathlessly. I had nearly forgotten how constricting corsets were.

"I'm just glad you're rid of that terrible, ratty travel outfit."

"Oh, please," I groaned. "It wasn't that bad."

Gramercy Park was only a little over half a mile from Bergdorf Goodman, so Elizabeth had decided we were going to walk. Another purchase she had made – probably the only one I truly appreciated – were fans we held in our hands. We immediately popped ours open and began fanning ourselves with them.

"Diana," Elizabeth said seriously, "the back of the skirt was so torn, I could nearly see your ankles."

I rolled my eyes. "God forbid."

The thinness of my skirt really did help with the high afternoon summer heat. With each step, I could feel a cool breeze sweep inside the skirt keeping me from getting too hot. The hat also shielded my eyes from the sun.

"Your dresses should be ready by the time Carolina hosts her party this week," Elizabeth said.

I almost choked. "You're friends with Carolina?"

"Well, I wouldn't say friends. Close acquaintances, mostly. We have reached a level ground."

I raised an eyebrow. "You and Lina? Level ground?" I recalled when Elizabeth had grown so upset when Lina spilled her tea that she fired her on the spot in front of some company or another. She and Lina were good friends as children along with Will Keller until both Elizabeth and Lina developed feelings for the boy. It wasn't until Lina was already fired that she discovered Will only had feelings for Elizabeth.

Elizabeth eyed me. "It is possible for people to change, Di. You said so yourself."

"So she throws this party every year?" I asked, steering clear of that topic, afraid it would set her off again.

She nodded. "She threw her first one six years ago. It was the largest party of the year. She spared no expense. It has become an annual event since then. She even got Alfred Vanderbilt to attend last year."

The name Alfred stuck a chord – he was the head of the famous Vanderbilt family, great-grandchild to Cornelius Vanderbilt who cultivated his fortune in railroads. The family were famous recluses who were rarely ever seen, so the fact that Lina had managed to get anyone, let alone the head of the family to attend, was something astounding.

"The whole thing this year is shrouded in mystery – no one has gotten any invitations yet, but she promises she is hosting one and it will be better than anything she's ever done," Elizabeth continued.

I couldn't help but be a little proud of our prior maid. I had known her for most, if not all, of my life. I was always the one she came to when Elizabeth was too hard on her when Claire was too busy. I was also the first one to recognize her after she had gotten some money of her own and began rising in the ranks of society all those years ago. She had masqueraded as an orphaned heiress from the west who had recently moved to New York. I had loved the thrill of having that secret.

"What ever happened to her?" I asked. "I mean, I know she didn't marry Leland but did she find anyone else?"

Elizabeth sighed, obviously disapproving of something. "For every outing, she has a new man at her side. Just last month she was spotted on a walk in Central Park with Grayson Hayes."

The name Hayes stopped me in my tracks. For the entirety of the time I had been back, there had been no mention of the Hayes family of which Penelope used to be a part of until she married into the Schoonmaker family. Not only that, but I had previous relations with Grayson. Penelope discovered and used that information to blackmail Henry into marrying her.

"Diana?" Elizabeth asked, turning to me. People had to walk around us and muffled something under their breaths.

"S-Sorry," I mumbled and began walking again. Elizabeth followed beside me. I wasn't sure how much Elizabeth knew about the blackmailing situation, nor did I want to know. It was one thing to know I had lost my virtue to Henry, but completely another thing to know I had also had sex with Grayson.

"If you want to talk about Penelope we can–"

" _Please_ ," I begged, "I would like anything but. I don't want to hear about her."

"Diana, you can't assume to just walk around the city and pretend nothing happened."

I sighed. "I know. But, please… let me live in ignorance just a little bit longer?"

No one had told me anything about whether Henry followed through with his divorce or whom either of them married next. For all I knew, Penelope got her wish and married some prince or duke or another. In my hopes and dreams, Henry had remained unmarried and elusive to the public but at the same time, I did want him to find happiness in someone else. After all, he made no attempts to visit me in Europe. I gave him the option to come with me, to run away with me, but he and I both knew he belonged here.

We walked the remaining distance in silence, fanning ourselves from the excessive heat. No one seemed to recognize us on the street, nor did I recognize anyone. It was odd, really. At the very least we would find someone who we knew in one way or another. But no one was familiar.

We climbed up the memorable steps and Elizabeth knocked on the door. I stood behind her, waiting. When no one answered the door, Elizabeth knocked again, louder this time. She turned to me, visibly annoyed.

"Their jobs aren't too terribly difficult, are they?" she groaned.

I pursed my lips, hiding a smile. There was a peak of the old Elizabeth I knew.

Finally, after waiting a good amount of time, she turned the knob and let herself and me in.

"Ethel? Aunt Edith?" she called into the dark house. It seemed as if no one was home. At the very least, Ethel should have been there to receive guests regardless of whether Aunt Edith was in or not.

Something seemed off to me, and it made my heart begin to race. Something wasn't right. Something was wrong. The walls looked impossibly darker than they had ever seemed before and everything was eerily still. A small voice in my mind was telling me to go upstairs to Mother's room but I was too afraid to listen to it. Instead, I followed behind Elizabeth, step for step.

We stepped further into the foyer and we each placed our fans and our hats on the entryway's table. I looked to my left where the parlor was and saw a teacup and a half-eaten sandwich on the table. Whatever happened, happened quickly because the tea was still steaming in the cup. I turned to my right to our older parlor room, where Henry first gave me his hat. Oh, how far we had come.

"Stay here," Elizabeth said to me and stepped further into the house towards the kitchen.

I kept eyeing the stairs, somehow knowing that's where we needed to go. I waited for as long as my patience would allow me, but eventually, I picked up my crepe skirt and began taking the steps up. At the top, I turned to the left where I saw Mother's door open. Although it was dark inside, I could see a few figures inside. To my astonishment, it looked as though someone who looked like Mother was standing. A man was next to her, holding her hand tightly and helping her stand. A smile broke out across my face.

"Mother!" I gasped, running into the room. I knew it – I _knew_ that my visiting would bring Mother round and have her healthy in no time.

But what I ran into was something entirely different. It wasn't Mother standing, but instead her sister, Aunt Edith. The man next to her, I recognized, was the doctor from yesterday. It was as I had thought – he was holding her up. But only because she was wracked with sobs.

With my smile immediately fading, I reluctantly turned my eyes to Mother who was lying in bed, in almost the exact way I had left her yesterday. Only now, her face was impossibly white and something black was dripping out of her mouth. No, red. It was deep red.

The color of blood.

"Mother?" I called again, only this time fainter, not truly comprehending what I was seeing.

I heard Elizabeth's feet pounding up the stairs behind me, and heard her skirts _swoosh_ around her as she turned into the room we were all standing in now.

Aunt Edith and the doctor turned to look at the two of us, a deep sorrow on each of their faces.

"I'm so sorry," the doctor said to all of us, "but she's passed."


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

 **In the event of the death of a loved one, family members must be prompt in planning a memorial and funeral service. Whereas once it was seen as proper to host services in one's home, now it was deemed distasteful. It is imperative that the deceased member's church hosts the event. It is imperative that the funeral service be worthy of the deceased member's wealth level. It is common for higher-class members of society to have larger, more opulent services than those of lesser means. In the day, or days, leading up to the service, it is customary for immediate members of the family to receive visitors to express their sympathy or to receive letters saying such.**

-Mary Smith, "Death and Mourning Etiquette"

* * *

Elizabeth escorted me quickly out of the bedroom, but not before the image of Mother was engrained into my mind forever. We quickly made our way to the parlor where she sat me down and joined beside me. We each sat in silence for a long time. I didn't know what to say, and I assumed she didn't either. We each let quiet streams of tears run down our cheeks.

I could faintly hear the doctor and Aunt Edith upstairs talking, possibly figuring out what next steps to do. I turned to Elizabeth then, suddenly realizing she was now the head of our family.

She looked strong, like she had been preparing for this. The wetness on her cheeks didn't make her seem weak. Her jaw was set strongly and she barely showed any signs of distress. I was in awe of her in that moment.

It may have been minutes later but it felt like hours when the doctor and Aunt Edith eventually came downstairs. She was still visibly shaken, but the doctor wished her well and told her to contact him if she needed anything. He gave Elizabeth and I a stern nod before leaving the house.

Edith stayed a moment in the doorway, watching him leave before slowly turning into the parlor room to us. Her eyes and nose were a puffy red and her dress was a crumpled mess in her hands. She walked into the room and sat in the chair she must have been sitting in before. She pushed her tea away and sighed, staring into the empty fireplace.

Again, all of us were silent, unsure of what to say but all knowing that Mother was upstairs, lifeless.

"I'm so sorry girls," Aunt Edith said a few minutes later. She still didn't look at us, but her voice was sympathetic. "The doctor thought she had more time."

Elizabeth shook her head. "What happened?"

Edith sighed, now turning to look at us. "She began to take a turn for the worse late last night. Ethel went to extinguish the fire in her room's fireplace but realized your mother was having a harder time breathing." My heart tightened, wanting to hear but at the same time wanting to run out of the room. "She was nearly gasping for air. She woke me and I sent her for the doctor right away. He got here around dawn. By then the bout had settled somewhat but she was still having difficulty."

"Was she awake?" I asked quietly.

Edith shook her head. "The medication he gives her is very strong. She felt no pain. Diana, I wanted to give you and your sister one more day together before bearing this heavy weight on either of your shoulders so I told Ethel to call on you tomorrow to pay your final respects but…"

My throat was constricting and I wondered if that was what Mother had felt. My eyes stung and my vision blurred.

"She held on for you, Diana," Edith said. "I'm sure of that. She knew."

It was those words that cracked my final wall and the weight of everything crushed me down. I closed my eyes and let the water from my eyes fall onto my new dress; the dress I had bought to impress Mother.

The rest of the day was a flurry of people coming in and out of the house. Ethel had left to get the people to come and take Mother's body away before we had first arrived. It turns out, Mother had died just a few minutes before we walked in. After her body was taken away to be prepared, Ethel went back out to get our mourning dresses from a specialist shop. Since Elizabeth and I had just gotten measured at Bergdorf Goodman, we knew our measurements right away. The dresses would be ready in the following morning to begin our mourning process.

Elizabeth offered to take me home with her, but I declined and decided to stay with Aunt Edith at Gramercy. I didn't want her to be alone in such a large house by herself. She didn't say so, but I knew she appreciated it. While Elizabeth was closer to Mother, I had always been closer with Edith.

It wasn't until late at night that Ethel had finally finished everything she needed to and came back to prepare a late supper for Edith and I. While we waited, Edith and I continued to sit in the parlor.

"I'm so sorry it happened so quickly, Diana," Aunt Edith said. "I know you had wanted to spend more time with her."

I looked down at my lap, where my hands were wringing together. I focused on them so as not to cry yet again.

"It's okay," I told her. "I got to say what I needed to."

"You're not staying, are you?" she asked suddenly.

I swallowed, unsure. "I wasn't going to, no."

"Well," she said, lying her skirt down flat, "Whatever you decide, I'm happy you did come."

I glanced up at her. She was gazing into the fireplace once more.

"Come with me," I blurted out.

"What?"

"Come with me, back to Europe."

"Oh, Diana…"

I hadn't even thought about it before I said it, but now that I did I thought it was a wonderful idea. Edith had always felt trapped here to take care of her sister but now she didn't have to stay.

"I have a ticket for two weeks from now. We can be on a boat together, away from here."

She gave me a half smile. "It's a lovely thought, dear. We shall see, won't we?" Then she looked away back toward the fireplace and her smile was gone.

Supper was tasteless, or maybe it was because I didn't have the emotions to process what I was eating. All I knew was that I was eating. Both of us ate in silence and retired upstairs close to midnight. The day would begin early with visitations from many people I had hoped never to see again.

When I got to the top of the stairs, I looked at Mother's door. It was closed, and I was terrified to open it and see the ghostly image of her on that bed again. I knew of course she wasn't there nor would her ghost be but the image alone of her in that bed earlier was enough to deter me away that night. I instead found my way back to my old room. I opened the door and was shocked to see it had remained the exact same after all these years. The pink walls, the white fur rug, the vanity mirror – all of it, each drawing a specific memory in my mind from years past. The only things different were the pillows and blankets on my bed. Where before they were a disgusting bright shade of pink, now they were brilliantly white with yellow daisy patterns.

On the bed, Ethel had laid out a nightgown for me, probably one she had bought while she was out. I quickly changed, though it took me a minute or two to get out of the corset myself. Once I was in bed in the darkness of the room, I found it relatively easy to fall asleep.

I woke up to the sound of my bedroom door opening. Ethel walked inside and hung a few dresses in my wardrobe and laid a black crepe dress at the foot of my bed as quietly as she could. For a moment, I wondered what the dress was for but then I remembered the previous day's events and curled tighter into a ball in the bed. Startled, Ethel jumped back from the bed.

"Oh! Sorry, Miss, I didn't know you were awake. I was trying to be quiet," she said.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"A little before six. You still have some time before you need to be up. Miss Edith isn't awake yet. The dresses were just delivered so I thought you might like them right away."

I nodded. "Yes, thank you. Has the paper been delivered yet?"

"Just now, yes."

"Can you bring the society page up, please?"

"Of course," she said, nodding and leaving the room.

While I waited for Ethel to return, I raised myself up and wiped my eyes to wake myself up further. I yawned and stretched my arms above my head, getting a few satisfying pops out of my shoulders. I looked down at the dress at the edge of my bed and reached out to touch it lightly. This was the style of dress I would wear for three months, and that alone made me cringe. Plus, Elizabeth had only just ordered those new dresses for us to wear.

How selfish was I that I was upset I wouldn't be able to wear my new dresses because Mother had just died? Shouldn't I be more devastated at that?

Ethel interrupted those thoughts when she entered back into the room and handed me the piece of the paper I had asked for. Sure enough, front and center was an article about Mother. The title read, "Fundamental Socialite Dies After Long Consumption Battle."

I wiped my eyes again to get the blurry sleepiness to go away and read out loud, "It is with our deepest sympathies that we regret to inform the passing of an important member of our elite community, Mrs. Louisa Holland, widow to Mr. Edward Holland who passed away a decade ago. She was diagnosed with consumption some six months ago but did not make it public until just four months ago. Mrs. Holland was a prominent figure in our community and was known for her deep love of traditional family values. She is of course the mother of Mrs. Elizabeth Cutting, married to Theodore "Teddy" Cutting and mother of two lovely children, and Miss Diana Holland who abruptly moved to Europe seven years ago and remains unwed. Mrs. Louisa Holland had an adventurous spirit and lively personality and is sure to be missed. Funeral arrangements are yet to be made, but the family will be receiving visitors over the next couple of days that wish to extend their feelings of sympathy or share loveable stories of this passed significant society member."

The article was written by Samuel DeBeauvier, a name I had never heard of before. While I had wished he didn't mention me, he did so in the quickest of ways, which I was grateful for.

It suddenly occurred to me that Henry would be visiting today. Of course he would – he was Teddy's closest friend and Teddy was Mother's son-in-law. And if he was remarried, he would be bringing his new wife and potential new children. I felt more awake than I had ever been this early in the morning. I set down the paper and brought my knees up to my chest.

I wasn't ready to meet him or whoever was in his life now. Then again, I probably never would be. I had always hoped to slip into New York, see my family for two weeks unnoticed by the public, and slip away just as quietly as I had come. I should have known it wouldn't be that easy.

I got out of bed and flew down the stairs. Maybe there was a way I could get out of receiving visitors that day. I could say the loss was just too soon and I wasn't ready. Ethel had said Edith wasn't awake yet, but perhaps I could go to her room and convince her in her drowsiness to let me be absent. Edith's room was on the first floor of the house next to the old parlor. I knocked on her door and waited for a sign from inside to come in.

"What are you doing?" Edith asked, popping up next to me. I nearly jumped in surprise.

"Oh. Ethel said you weren't awake yet–" I stopped myself and took a deep breath. "I can't do it today. I can't receive visitors."

"And why not?"

"I'm not feeling well," I feigned, making my voice weak.

"Diana," Edith sighed, visibly annoyed, "if you think I can't see passed your charade, you've thought me a fool. You're not ill."

"Please, Edith!"

"Don't think I don't know what – or who – this is about." She turned and went towards the kitchen, back where she had come from.

I sulked after her, my steps lighter on the old floors. "I can't see him, Edith."

She spun around quickly. "I love you, child, you know that. But this is getting foolish. That boy nearly knocked poor Teddy over when you first came to visit your mother. I fear for that boy if you continue to brush him off as you do."

"Please," I begged, my voice lower and more desperate now, "don't make me do this. Not yet. I'm not ready."

Aunt Edith gently placed her hand on my arm, attempting to comfort me. "My dear Diana, if there is one thing this loss as taught me, it is that one is never ready to take an uncertain step in life. Despite being prepared for months for this moment, losing Louisa was and still is a shock to me." It felt odd to hear someone use Mother's first name instead of calling her Mrs. Holland. But I guess, as her sister, that's what Aunt Edith was used to saying. "In my experience, you will never be ready. Not now, nor ten years from now. In a way, perhaps this passing is a blessing. In this capacity, he will only be able to extend his condolences. Anything beyond so will be considered inappropriate."

I swallowed a large lump in my throat. "Do you hate me?" I asked. "I feel so stupid. I'm making this situation about me. You're the one that lost a sister. You knew Mother longer than any of us." I tried to put myself in her shoes, imagining if Elizabeth had died. Of course, there was a time when I thought it was true. Edith wasn't so lucky as to have her sister actually be alive again like I did.

A sweet, small smile grew on her lips. "I could never hate you, my sweet Di. As I said, I had been preparing for this moment for a long time. But my sister brought two beautiful, young women into the world and her spirit lives on in you both. That's something I'll forever be grateful for."

"So there's no way I can excuse myself today?" I asked.

"Absolutely not," she said quickly before turning around and continuing into the kitchen. She took a seat at the table and Ethel began serving us both breakfast.

As the sun continued to rise, Edith decided it was the time we should begin to get ready to receive visitors. Elizabeth would be arriving soon with Teddy and the kids. I wondered how much she would tell her children; they were still so young. I would hate for them to learn too soon just how cruel life – or death, really – was.

Edith gave Ethel instructions to help me get ready first. She helped me bathe and she set my hair unto a simple low bun at the base of my neck. She tightened the corset around my ribcage tightly, nearly choking me in the process. The crepe dress she fitted over me was cut low but had lace flowing up the chest and into the collar to retain modesty. The long sleeves were larger from the shoulder to the elbow and from the elbow to my wrist it was fitted. Ethel fitted me with black lace gloves – really the only type of addition that was allowed. Any jewelry or excessive clothing was considered inappropriate and in bad taste.

When Ethel left to attend to Edith, I took that time to sit at my vanity. If Henry was going to visit that day, I had to make sure I didn't look the mess that I know I would become when he walked in the room. I pinched my cheeks, adding a slight rose color to them. I used the pins on the dresser to pin back any stray hairs. I wanted to look every bit the Diana I was when I left all those years ago. I wondered what he would think when he saw me. Did I look older? Did time age me well? Did it age him well? Of course it did, he was Henry Schoonmaker. Time was always kind to his family. In fact, it was once a rumor that Aunt Edith and Henry's father once had a fling, long before Elizabeth or I were born.

Someone knocked at my door and I told them to come in. Elizabeth walked into the room, in a dress almost exactly like mine. If only I had blonde hair like hers, we would look like the same person. Except for her eyes. They were still red, like yesterday, but managed to be dry.

"You look beautiful, Di," she said to me.

I stood from my vanity. "No one compares to you, Lizzie." We embraced each other tightly. "I'm so sorry about yesterday, everything I said. I don't know what I was saying."

Elizabeth let me go and shook her head. "Oh, nonsense. That's in the past now. Are you ready? We've already started to receive calling cards for today."

I nodded and we held each other's hands and walked down the stairs. Teddy was kneeling and talking to the children who were happily laughing. Good, I thought, they don't know. That, or they didn't have much grasp of what was actually going on. I envied them. When Teddy saw us, he stood and showed a sad smile to me. At the bottom of the stairs, he hugged me tightly.

"I'm so sorry, Diana," he said in my ear as he embraced me. It still startled me how calm I was through all this. "How are you?" he asked as if seeing me for the first time in a long time again.

I nodded. "I'm good, thank you."

"Let's not dawdle in the foyer. The guests will need somewhere to walk to. Come, come," Aunt Edith said, descending the stairs.

Delores came out of the main parlor and ushered the kids away. She led them through the hallway, into the kitchen, and out the back door, presumably to the stables to play with the few old horses that still remained.

All the rest of us walked into the parlor and took our familiar seats. Anna brought out tea for us but none of us really wanted it so it all went untouched.

My heart raced as we waited for the visitors to arrive, wondering who would be the first and dreading if it was anyone I knew. I didn't want to focus to be on me – I knew they would ask about Europe and my life since I left, but they would have to keep it brief. I wished to be invisible to everyone.

The first few to arrive were old friends of Mother's who had hardly attempted to visit her or reach out to her for years. I only recognized one or two of them myself from when I was much younger. The rest of their names rang no bells in my mind. They brought their old husbands and children who were Elizabeth's and my age or older. They passed on their condolences to all of us and left relatively quickly. They were doing what was customary, nothing more. Once pleasantries were exchanged and the proper, "I'm sorry for your loss" were said, silence would fall in the room before they would bring up some mundane topic or another, which was usually asking me about my adventures in Europe. I stealthily evaded the topic each time. A few minutes of quiet small talk would ensue before they would politely excuse themselves and leave.

The first few hours were dreadfully boring and each visit was like the last. By the time afternoon came, I was convinced no one of the younger generation was going to come at all, namely Henry.

When it was time for lunch and the guests had momentarily ceased, we all went into the kitchen where Ethel served a thin soup. Teddy was talking to Elizabeth about setting Mother's affairs in order – since she was now the one in charge of the household until Keller came of age – and Edith was discussing dinner preparations with Ethel. I ate my soup in silence.

Someone knocked at the front door and Ethel excused herself from Edith's conversation.

"Tell them to come back in an hour after we've finished eating," Edith called after her.

Figuring it was another calling card, I focused on my soup. I ripped a piece of sourdough bread and dipped it into the juices. I could hear some vague mumbling coming from the front door before it was shut again.

Ethel walked back in, trying to hide a smile from her face, but the flush in her cheeks was more difficult to hide. Whoever it was at the door had made some sort of impression on her.

"Who was it that made you so red?" asked Edith, her eyebrow raised.

Ethel handed me a card. It had my name scrawled on the front in an identifiable hand. I knew immediately who it was.

"Mr. Schoonmaker," Ethel answered. "He said he was much too busy to stay but he had written a letter to Miss Diana."

I stared at the letter in my hands, unsure of whether to open it or not. Maybe my dreams had come true – maybe I wouldn't see him, at least not that day. A deep sigh of relief overwhelmed my body and my shoulders visibly shrugged.

"Diana?" Elizabeth called. "Do you want to go to the library to read it?" Her voice was soft, kind.

I looked up at her, and then at Edith. They each, with a serious expression, nodded. I quickly used a napkin to dab my mouth before nearly sprinting to the place I once found sanctuary. For some reason, I closed the thick, wooden door behind me. This felt like something I needed to do in private, away from anyone who could read my expressions.

I sat in Father's chair and turned it toward the window to catch the light. My fingers traced my name over the front of the letter, feeling where the pen had indented on the paper – a paper he had touched, a paper he had written a letter to me. With a deep breath, I opened the letter and read.

 **My dearest Diana,**

 **I've only just now read about your mother's passing. I'm so sorry for your loss, though I guess you're hearing that a lot lately. I know I did when my father died. I'm probably the last person you want to hear it from, so I'm writing you this letter.**

 **I'm sorry for my abruptness yesterday. I really do apologize for my actions. It's just- I had just heard you were back in New York. From the papers. Do you know how hurtful that is? Not even Teddy told me, and I know he must have known before everyone else.**

 **I just need to see you. There are so many things we need to talk about. I would rather you hear everything from me than someone else. I am probably the last person you would want to see because of it all, but there's more to it that you know. Please don't be upset. You're still my true bride.**

 **Yours,**

 **Henry Schoonmaker**

I stared at the last paragraph, reading it over and over again. Why would I be upset? What would I hear from someone else? Perhaps he _had_ remarried which, yes, I would be a little sad about, but that's what I wanted him to do. And that's not even including the last sentence.

"True bride," I whispered. If he had remarried, why would he still call me that? He fell in love with someone else – he shouldn't be calling me that.

The letter felt impossibly short. I read it over once more just to make sure I hadn't missed anything. I flipped it over and saw nothing else. Just the dreadfully short letter I had read. I even held it up to the light from the window to see if there was some sort of invisible ink. Ridiculous, I know. But something felt as though it was missing.

I left the library with the letter tucked into the pocket of my dress's skirts. I saw Elizabeth tying on her hat and putting on her gloves. Teddy was beside her, gathering the children with Delores.

"You're leaving?" I asked.

"Yes," Elizabeth replied, "we have to finish making arrangements for tomorrow. I'm sure you and Edith can handle the rest of the day's visitors."

Tomorrow. The funeral.

I nodded. "Oh, okay."

"Are you alright? What was in the letter?" Elizabeth said.

Teddy looked at me as well, a serious and cautious look on his face. I shook my head. "Nothing, really. Just how sorry he was about Mother."

Her eyes lingered on me, not quite believing what I said. Then she pursed her lips, deciding against pursuing it further.

"We will try to be back tonight before it gets too dark to receive any last visitors. If it gets to be too late, though, I'm afraid we will have to call it a night. Will you be staying here again?"

I nodded. "I think that would be best."

"We'll have Anna send over your things then," Teddy said.

He and Delores nudged their kids out of the front door with Elizabeth following. When they were gone, I saw Edith was still in the kitchen talking to Ethel. There was still some time left until we would be receiving again, so I went upstairs.

Mother's door looked heavier than ever. The dark wood seemed as though it would weigh a thousand pounds to open, but with a simple twist of the crystal knob, it swung open easily. Inside it was dark as usual, but the eeriness of the silence made it seem darker. I could feel the energy drain out of me the second I took a step inside. My steps were quiet on the old floors, only creaking in certain spots. I inched closer to the bed, still afraid to see the figure of her lifeless body lying there, but the bed was made. Pillows were fluffed with thick, heavy blankets tucked underneath them – everything looked as though she was just out for the day and would return. My fingertips went along the sheets, feeling them. It wasn't long ago that she was in them. They felt warm, as if she was still there. I swore I could even feel the indent she left in the mattress from her body sleeping in the same position every night on the same side of the bed. She always slept on the left, even after Father died.

The curtains were drawn. I walked to them and opened one slightly, squinting at the bright light shining through. I had to blink a few times.

People we walking on the street – men on their way home from work, women strolling through Gramercy, some pushing carriages with young infants inside.

Just moments ago, Henry was walking on that street. Had I looked out, I would have seen him. His odd letter to me only made the urge to see him stronger. Maybe that was his intention. If only there were a way for me to see him without him seeing me – I just wanted to see him happy again. Then I could leave in peace after everything with Mother had settled.

I stayed at the window a little longer until I saw a familiar face walking up our steps.

None other than our old maid, Lina.


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

 **Sorry, we couldn't make it back. It has been a long and tiring day. Grace Episcopal Church, 800 Broadway in Manhattan. 10AM.**

-Elizabeth Cutting

* * *

I left Mother's room as quietly as I had come in, afraid to disturb anything. My skirts swished around my ankles as I turned down the stairs and into the foyer where Ethel was just answering the door.

Edith was sitting in the parlor, in the chair she always sat in, awaiting the arrival of more visitors. Finally, someone I knew was going to visit.

Instead of waiting in the parlor like was customary, I waited behind Ethel to open the door. When she did, I saw Lina enter in all her newfound glory. The first part of her I saw were her eyes. Lina was always rather plain looking except for her sage green eyes. They captured you and electrified her face, lightening it up and exposing her freckled cheeks.

Her brown hair was swept up into an intricate half bun in the center of the back of her head, with loose tendrils curling around her neck and face. She wore a fantastic deep green satin dress with gold trim that only illuminated her eyes more and a simple gold chain necklace.

"Lina!" I exclaimed, pushing through Ethel and towards my old friend. I embraced her closely.

"Oh my god, Diana!" she said, shocked but happy. "I didn't think the rumors were true, to be honest."

We let go of each other and, with her hand in mine, I led her into the parlor. Edith stood and greeted Lina as she would any other guest and not someone who she had known for over a decade. As forward thinking as Edith was, I could tell she still wasn't a fan of someone being so wealthy – perhaps more wealthy than us – from such meager means.

All of us took our seats. Lina's dress pooled around her, filling the entire chair she was sat on.

"So how are you?" I asked her, knowing full well Edith wouldn't be the first to speak.

Lina had just finished smoothing down her dress before she responded.

"Oh, I'm fantastic. But we aren't here to talk about me. Diana, Ms. Holland," she said, addressing Aunt Edith, "I am so, so deeply sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," Aunt Edith said shortly.

"Are you thirsty? Hungry? We simply _must_ catch up," I said, nearly begging her to stay. I would get the chance to finally talk to someone. Not just someone out of the family, but also someone I would actually, genuinely enjoyed the presence of. Lina and I had one fundamental belief in common: that the old New York social class was just that – old. She was a breath of fresh air.

"I do so agree," Lina replied, "but I'm pressed for time as of late. I have so many calls to make. I was going to host a party this Thursday but I've decided to cancel. It doesn't seem right nor appropriate to do so so close to Mrs. Holland's passing."

I could see Aunt Edith's face grow slightly softer as Lina spoke.

"Thank you," Edith murmured again, but this time her tone was more genuine.

Lina gave her a warm smile, her rouged lips drawing back to reveal a pearly smile. Her eyes turned to me, looking full of something. It was as if she had been seeking Aunt Edith's approval and had finally gotten it.

"I do agree though, Diana," she said. "We really must get together when the timing is more appropriate. I have so much to tell you, but I have the feeling you'll have much, much more to share."

"And how is Claire?" I prodded, unwilling to let her go just yet. Whereas decorum strictly forbade guests coming and talking about anything other than condolences, it said nothing of the sort for the hosts.

Lina nodded, smiling further. "She's well, thank you." I distinctly remembered Claire, Lina's older sister and another former maid of ours growing up. Claire had the same awe as Lina did about the higher-class society men and women, but was far too polite to act as Lina did in creating her own fortune after befriending dear old Mr. Longhorn who, in his death, bequeathed a majority of his massive wealth to her.

"Oh, I would love to see her," I said.

"She will be so elated to hear of your return, Diana. Claire was actually the one who informed me of the rumor of your return. She read it in her the paper one day and came dashing into my room one morning, asking if it was true. Of course, I didn't think it was but… here you are!"

"Here I am," I reiterated, less enthusiastically.

"I wish it were under different circumstances, though," Lina sighed. "Again, I am so sorry for your loss."

 _I think I found my new least favorite saying_ , I thought to myself. Never again did I want anyone to utter it. But this, I knew, was only the beginning.

"Please don't hesitate to contact me if you need _anything_. I know how awful it is to lose a parent."

I had almost forgotten that Lina's mother, Marie Broud, who was once Elizabeth's and my nurse – after Delores – had died. Her father died some many years before that. She was an orphan, and now so was I.

"Then again," Lina continued, "I guess you do too."

"Thank you, Lina. Your friendship means so much. The papers will say so in the morning, but the funeral is tomorrow. I hope you and Claire will attend."

Lina reached forward in her chair and placed both her hands gently over mine. "We will be there. Whatever you need."

Edith stiffened again the moment I invited Lina but I ignored her and gave Lina a gracious smile. We all stood and walked Lina to the door where her maid and Ethel stood waiting. In Lina's maid's hands was a full pot holding a stupendous bouquet of white lilies and a rainbow assortment of gladioli throughout.

"These are for you," Lina said, taking the large bouquet and handing it to Ethel.

"They're beautiful," remarked Edith, her voice somewhat flat but still grateful.

"I've found that a dash of something beautiful can make even the saddest of times a little better," Lina said.

I smile weakly, my throat tight at her sentiment. Before tears could form and fall, I took Lina into another embrace. After she and her maid left, Ethel headed to the kitchen to put the flowers down.

"You could have been a little nicer, Aunt Edith," I said as we both walked back into the parlor.

Edith scoffed. "Why did you invite her tomorrow?"

I looked at her, my mouth agape. "What?"

We took out seats and Edith shook her head. "Maybe you truly are ill," she said, bringing up our earlier conversation. "Louisa would never want _her_ at her funeral. Carolina Broud only cares about one thing – Carolina Broud. And that flower arrangement?" She rolled her eyes.

"What about them? They were beautiful," I fought back for my friend.

"What better way to show off her whore money."

"Aunt Edith!" I exclaimed, shocked but her abrasive words. Never in my life would I have thought I would chastise someone for speaking so out of turn, let alone Aunt Edith, seeing as I nearly invented the idea as a child, but this was absurd.

"Well," she said, waving her hands dismissively, "how else do you explain it? Who goes from a maid to a socialite in less than a year? I appreciate a person who works hard to live a comfortable life, but _she_ did not, Diana. There are boundaries even I would not cross."

I shook my head in disbelief. "That's not what happened at all, Aunt Edith."

"Oh?" she said, feigning to be surprised. "What young girl voluntarily and willingly spends such an exorbitant amount of time with a man _much_ too old for her if not to get his fortune when he unsurprisingly dies shortly after their meeting?"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing or what she was insinuating.

"Why don't you ask Henry's stepmother Isabella?" I said sharply back. Isabella Schoonmaker, née De Ford, was only five years older than the man that was supposed to be her stepson, yet had managed to marry Henry's father, William. Henry told me that he was surprised and somewhat proud of his old father for marrying her, seeing as she was the girl every young, eligible bachelor enjoyed flirting with. I wondered briefly if she had remarried since William died and feared for a moment that maybe Henry had remarried _her_. I knew that could never be the case – not only would it be social suicide and therefore his ruin, I knew he never once saw her in that type of way.

Edith was grumbling something unfavorable while I went through my thoughts. She sipped her tea, losing the words into her cup.

"Lina and her sister, along with all of New York, will be there tomorrow to pay their respects," I said with an air of finality.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Many more noticeable figures came after the lunching hour, including Agnes Jones – a rather plump, red-faced girl Elizabeth had embarrassingly gained as a friend when they were both young girls. She was swollen with a child with her husband Percival Coddington trailing behind her. Mother had tried to marry both Elizabeth and me off to him in our younger years, but his disturbing habits of harming small animals and his odd collection of insects deterred both of us from him.

More friends of Mother's visited, too – prominent members of the Astor family stopped by as well as some Vanderbilt cousin or ill-favored son. I had become quite bored after Lina left since I really did not have many friends I cherished or even thought of these last seven years.

Elizabeth and Teddy did not end up returning that day. Only a late letter arrived in Elizabeth's hand giving the brief details of the funeral.

Edith retired early to her room, while I still felt wide awake. I went through the kitchen and out the delivery door to the old carriage house. Will Keller, Elizabeth's first husband and father of her son, used to live out in the stables. Where there were once half a dozen horses, now there were only two. I smiled politely to the new stable hand but he scurried off somewhere. The familiar sweet smell of the hay and horses greeted me. Above me was the loft Will had lived in and, as I found out much later, where Elizabeth would spend secret nights with him. No one lived up there anymore – since there were fewer horses to care for, the new stable hand had another job at someone else's stables and instead slept there. Maybe that's where he ran off to the moment I stepped inside.

I climbed the ladder up to the loft and sat on the edge, letting my ankles hang down below. In my pocket, I could feel the letter poking me in the thigh with a corner. It had been burning a hole in there all evening since I first read it. My hand reached inside now to finally pull it out again. It had crumpled a bit from my sitting and standing all day, but my name was as clear as day on the front.

 _Diana._

No last name. No address. Though, I guess it really wasn't needed since he hand-delivered it himself.

My fingers traced my name again, but this time it was more difficult to distinguish between the indent of the pen and the creases from my dress. I was slightly disappointed.

I looked around me then. Nothing was really in the loft anymore, just random tools and an old saddle or two. The black carriage sat below, empty. Any remnants of Will were gone. I tried to imagine it – Liz sneaking off in the middle of the night to meet him here and do quite grown-up things that only married couples were allowed to do. I was no innocent party of course, but imagining a perfect society girl like Elizabeth doing that was quite shocking.

I had never really known Will, nor paid much attention to him. His hooked nose, dark hair and deep blue eyes barely rang a bell in my mind until Elizabeth returned from out West where they had run off to be together. I saw those features in their shared son, though he had the classic Holland chin and round lips. Elizabeth had faked her own death just to escape society to be with him. When I had learned of the fact, I couldn't be more proud of my sister. Never before had I seen her act like a heroine in a novel, setting out to make her own destiny instead of following the one that was assigned to her at birth.

It was when Elizabeth returned from out West with Will that she secretly got married and, for the briefest of moments, he was my brother-in-law. At least, until Snowden Cairns had him gunned down at the train station when Will and Elizabeth were going back out West, as a true husband and wife. But Mr. Cairns told the police Will was obsessed with Elizabeth and had kidnapped her.

I shook my head to relieve the dark thoughts.

The world was so quiet, I realized, in that loft. It was no wonder that Elizabeth and Will chose to meet here every night, besides the fact that it was where he lived.

I opened Henry's letter in my hand and read it again and again until I had memorized it. My eyes lingered on the words, _true bride_. I shook my head in disbelief. He still loved me. Even after all this time and distance, he still loved me.

One of the horses below me huffed and kicked a hoof against the stall, knocking me away from the letter. It had gotten late and the moon's bright light was shining into the carriage house, illuminating the dark corners.

I took the ladder back down and out of the loft. I turned the corner, seeing two dark horses in their stalls. One was a dark tan color with a white stripe running down the middle of its face and leading to its gray lips. The other horse, barely even visible in its dark corner stall, was magnificently black. The only part of it I could easily distinguish was its white feet and hooves.

I quickly pet the brown horse, letting my hand rest on its warm cheek. It stood there staring at me.

"We're all stuck in a cage, I guess," I said, speaking softly to it.

I turned then and left the carriage house. Since I had nowhere else to go, I went back into the house the same way I had come and went up the old, carpeted stairs to my room. Each step still made each familiar noise.

I almost yelped in surprise when I saw Ethel sitting in the chair in the corner of my room. She was asleep, with her mouth open, emitting a soft snore. When I gasped in surprise at seeing her, she immediately woke up.

"Oh, Miss Diana," he said blinking rapidly and wiping the side of her mouth. She stood quickly. "I'm so sorry."

I was clutching my chest and shook my head, letting my hand fall. "No, no, it's alright."

"I helped your Aunt Edith to bed and thought I would wait here for your return to help you. I really didn't mean to fall asleep," she apologized profusely.

Had I been Mother or Elizabeth years ago, I would have heavily chastised her. But seeing as I was neither, I waved my hand dismissively.

"Honestly, Ethel, it's quite alright," I said, seeing her face softening. "I wouldn't mind some help to get out of this dress, though."

She immediately stepped forward to begin untying me out of the heavy, constricting contraption. After the dress was taken off over my head, the crinoline hoop was dropped and my corset was finally released. I breathed in a long, deep sigh, happy to be able to breathe again. My nightgown was slipped over my head. Anna must have delivered it sometime while I was in the carriage house. My small luggage of meager clothing was sitting in the corner of the room, opened and emptied presumably by Ethel.

She took the many pins out of my hair and I watched as it tumbled down my face and over my shoulders in a messy, curled heap. When I was younger and in the exact same position I was now, my hair had always been and untamable mess. Either age or lack of daily washing must have changed something because now it had only a slight, soft wave to it. I distinctly remembered cutting it short to run off to find Henry when he foolishly joined the army after Teddy did as well. Now, it had long since grown out so much so that it nearly touched the back of my elbows.

Ethel brushed my hair softly, getting all the days' kinks out of it.

"Did you like my mother?" I asked her.

She lifted her eyes to meet mine in the mirror. Her deep, ocean blue eyes looked into my plain brown ones with a slightly confused expression.

She answered, "Of course I did."

I pursed my lips. "Did you? I know she must have been difficult. She had always been very particular."

Ethel went back to focusing on my hair. "She was always kind to me. I only started working for the Mrs. Holland last year. I had heard before how very strict she could be, but she never really was – at least, not to me."

I coughed out a short laugh. "Strict" was putting it lightly.

"Really?" I said, trying to keep back my incredulous smile. Ethel must be lying, I thought. Perhaps she didn't want to speak ill of the dead or my mother. "You can tell me the truth. I'm sure she's told you how often she and I butted heads."

She set down the brush and began to separate my hair to braid it. She politely smiled without looking at me.

"She really didn't say much about you, only that you were living in Europe," she said.

Well, that was disappointing. I had always pictured Mother ranting about my existence and cursing the day I left – or celebrating that day.

"She really was not terrible to work for. She was a kind woman," Ethel had continued.

I pursed my lips further, unsure where to go from there. Never once had I heard someone call Louisa Adora Holland a "kind woman." Strong, proud, fearsome – sure; never "kind" though.

"Well, except–" Ethel began but stopped herself. She shook her head.

"What?"

"There was one time when she grew quite angry with me."

"When? What had happened?"

Ethel shook her head again. "It's really not my place, Miss," she said as if begging me to stop pushing her.

"I won't tell," I said slyly, letting the right side of my lips curl into a seductive smile. I always did it to win someone over and it nearly almost always worked.

With a deep sigh, Ethel said, "It was my fault, really. She had told me certain areas of the house were off limits."

I pushed my eyebrows together. Mother had never marked _any_ rooms as off limits. There were only rooms that had simply fallen into disuse – like the second parlor. Mother had called it the "lesser parlor" only for the fact that our lesser paintings and furnishings were in that room. It had changed a lot recently, though. When our family first fell into financial ruin shortly before Elizabeth eloped with Will, Mother had sold nearly everything in there. It was once our ballroom but we stopped having balls when Father died and converted it into a parlor. Other than that, every room was open.

"What rooms?" I asked, perplexed.

"The library and this one, Miss." The way she said it made it seem like I was dumb for not knowing.

"My room?" I gasped. "And the library? _Why?_ "

Ethel finished the long braid and took a step back. "It wasn't my place to ask. But on one of my first days, I had forgotten and came in here to do some cleaning. Mrs. Holland was coming upstairs and saw me. The way she was yelling… I thought I was fired, for sure."

I chuckled. "Oh, I recognize that rage. She never said _why_ those rooms were off limits?"

She shook her head. "Needless to say, I never forgot after that. Sometimes I would see her go into here or the library and she would stay in there for hours a day."

It was after she said that that it clicked.

"Oh."

When Father first died, she acted as if the library – where he had spent the majority of his time when he was home – was sacred ground. Our poor staff at the time was only allowed to clean in there under her strict supervision. A vein would very nearly burst in her neck if she caught Elizabeth or me in the library at all. Months after Father's death and while Elizabeth had been touring Europe for the spring and summer, was when Mother began to loosen her grip of the room.

I understood why, of course; she missed Father. She had wanted to preserve things just as he had left them as if he would come back at any moment.

Tears welled in my eyes. I looked down at my palms in my lap so Ethel wouldn't see.

Mother missed _me_. She made my room sacred ground, just as she had the library years ago, only even more so. Her pride was holding her back from writing or reaching out to me all these years. It was my pride as well. I wanted to prove to her that I didn't need her or the Holland family money to make it anywhere.

The library was another question in my mind. Why there, too? The only answer I could think of was because I had adopted it as mine after Father. I went in there nearly every day to read different books, or later to write stories for Davis Barnard and his "Gamesome Gallant" column.

Only this time, she really _was_ waiting for me to return. Her grip never loosened like it did for the library when she associated it with Father. These last seven years, no one had stepped into the library or my room, except for her.

"Are you alright, Miss Diana?" Ethel asked, placing a soft, warm hand on my back.

"Yes," I answered, not lifting my head, "just tired. We all need some sleep. Thank you for helping me tonight, Ethel."

I quickly stood and went straight to my bed. I pulled the covers over me and turned my back to her. She shuffled out of the room, blowing out the candles and turning off the electric lights with a switch near the door. I was left in silence to sleep.

* * *

It was raining. The sound of the water hitting the stain glass windows of the church was the only sound of the filled room. Masses of people filled the pews, but I saw none I recognized. Despite the crowds of people, no one was speaking a word. Next to me, Elizabeth and Aunt Edith were staring blankly ahead as if listening to Reverend Needlehouse speak but no one was at the podium. Elizabeth and Edith were in their black mourning dresses, each with a veil of black tulle covering their faces.

Suddenly, someone was next to me, standing in the aisle and bending down to breathe into my ear, "It's your turn."

I glanced up at them and was saw Henry's handsome face looking at me. He hadn't changed a bit.

"My turn?" I asked, my voice impossibly loud, echoing against the walls and high ceiling.

Henry extended a hand to me. Without further question, I took his familiar, smooth hand. Still, no one spoke. Elizabeth and Edith kept their eyes forward.

Henry, his hand still in mine, led me down the aisle toward Mother's coffin. The top, which exposed her from her head to her waist, was open. The lower portion was closed and had a large flower display made of lilies and gladioli just like the bouquet of flowers Lina had given earlier.

My heart was pounding deep in my chest, afraid to see the gaunt, sickly image of Mother again. Henry let go of my hand and I walked up the two steps that led to the coffin without him.

Inside the mahogany coffin, Mother's hands were laid over her stomach and she wore a powder blue dress. What shocked me the most was the fact that she looked nothing like the Mother I had seen just a few days ago. Instead, she had a healthy weight on her and her cheeks were flushed as if blood still pumped through them. She looked… normal, like she had before I left. Not sick, just sleeping. In her hands, she clutched one single deep red rose. I touched it and a thorn pricked me. I bounced back, taking in a sharp breath of pain. I looked at my finger where a drop of blood was beginning to pool.

Suddenly, a singular laugh erupted from someone behind me. I spun around, outraged at who it was who would ever laugh at a funeral.

In a sea of black mourning outfits, one person in a pew was wearing a white dress. A _wedding_ dress. When I saw her, my blood began to boil. Her dark hair was ornately done with pearls and what appeared to be diamonds. Her cold, steel blue eyes glared at me and her full, red lips were pulled back into a venomous smile.

Penelope.

"You were never going to have him," she spat. No one in the crowd said anything. It was like I was the only one who heard her. Not even Henry, who I couldn't find anywhere.

"What?" I asked her, looking for anyone else to scold her for her outburst.

"You think you can just come back to New York and win him over? It's too late." She pointed one long, ivory finger to the coffin behind me.

Confused, I turned and screamed.

Henry was lying there now, not Mother. He was lying in the same position she had been, only the vivid, red rose she had held was now dried and wilting in his. He had the sickly, dead face Mother had, with dried blood on his nose and mouth.

I turned again and Penelope was standing right before me, laughing loudly.

I sprung awake in bed, covered in sweat, still hearing Penelope's laugh ringing in my mind.


	10. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

 **Keep it. It looked so good on you I can't stand the sight of myself in it anymore… nor the thought of the context in which I shall have to get to know you better.**

-HS

* * *

With no appetite, I barely ate my breakfast. I pushed the eggs around with my fork and left my coffee untouched. After that dream had woken me up just before dawn, I couldn't fall back asleep. I felt wired awake.

"Are you alright, Diana?" Edith asked, eyeing my fork and then me again.

I set my fork down with a clang and pushed away my food. "I'm not hungry," I answered.

I couldn't shake the image of Henry in that casket. His cheeks and eyes were so sunken, he already looked decomposed. I had to see him; I know I did, if only just to put my mind at ease to see him healthy. I told myself early in the dawn light that I wouldn't speak to him – I didn't want to interfere in whatever relationship he was in now, for surely a man like him would be in one. I would just see him to make sure he was okay and that would be it. I still had my voyage back to Europe booked in a week and a half. That was my saving grace.

"You don't look well. Are you sure you're alright?" Edith asked again, her eyes lingering on me the entire time.

I sighed. "I didn't sleep well, is all."

Edith gave me a sympathetic smile. "To be quite honest, I didn't either. And today will give us no respite, I'm afraid."

I bit the inside of my cheek to prevent the tears that threatened to fall. It still hadn't quite hit me that today was the day that I would be burying the only parent I had left, no matter how estranged we had gotten. She was still my mother.

Ethel cleared away our plates, mine still full. Edith wiped her small mouth with her napkin and stood with me following suit.

"Ethel will help me get dressed and then I will send her to help you. Thomas will have the carriage ready at precisely nine-thirty," Aunt Edith informed me. "Will that be sufficient?"

I nodded, fixing my plain cotton robe to better cover my nightgown underneath. We both wet our separate ways – her to her room on the main floor and me to mine upstairs. While I waited I again sat at my vanity's mirror, looking at the reflection that stared back at me. I tried to remember how I last looked when I was here before, all those years ago. Perhaps my eyes had gotten duller and my cheeks less full. I was a child then, I told myself. I was a woman now, with thicker, tougher skin (both literally and figuratively) to prove it. No longer was I the unblemished, fair-toned girl that used to dream about Henry Schoonmaker while clutching the hat he had gifted me.

At the thought of the hat, I jumped up from my seat at the vanity and knelt beside my bed. I pulled up the covers to reveal a heavily dusty underside of my bed. Sure enough the round, gold box was still there. I reached under the bed and pulled it out. The note inside held the same handwriting at the letter she had received yesterday.

Of course, the last bit of it related to the fact that he had just gotten engaged to Elizabeth. That time seemed eons ago, or like a dream.

Beneath the note, the familiar hat greeted me like an old friend. I looked at the ribbon tied around it closely, finding the "H.W.S." embroidered on it. With a smirk, I placed it on my head. I got up and looked at myself in the mirror.

The hat, whereas it was usually much too large for my head, now fit almost perfectly. The waves of my hair kept it from sliding down my face. I could tell _then_ that I had, indeed, changed.

I still remembered the first day Henry and I had met – it was mere moments after he and my sister had gotten engaged and, not knowing that, I took his hat to try it on. When he took it back, he kissed me and that's when I knew he would be the only man I would ever love.

Before Ethel could come in and have a heart attack at the sight of me in some man's hat, I slipped it off my head and back into its old box. I placed the original note gingerly on top again and slipped the whole thing back under my bed and out of sight once more.

Ethel came in shortly after and dressed me in the same outfit as yesterday – black crepe dress, black lace gloves, and now a new black hat to match. It had a black satin ribbon tied around the brim, coming together at the back in a bow with the strings hanging down my neck, just touching the same, low bun Ethel had created yesterday.

The carriage was ready exactly at nine-thirty, as Edith had said. Thomas – the name of the stable boy, I learned – helped Aunt Edith and me into the carriage.

We arrived just in time, as had Elizabeth and Teddy. Delores, I was sure, was somewhere nearby with the children. Elizabeth and Teddy greeted us with kisses on our cheeks and small embraces.

"I checked everything and it all seems to be in order," Elizabeth said. The deep lines below her eyes indicated a lack of sleep – something we all seemed to have in common.

Teddy kept a hand on her lower back the whole time as if to catch her in case she fell over, but she looked strong as usual.

The church loomed over us, its white stone exterior as old as the city itself. The last time I was here for a funeral was the one for Elizabeth when she had faked her death. I had only found out that morning that she was, in fact, very much alive.

There was no such hope today.

Elizabeth looped her arm through mine. We both lifted our skirts and began up the church steps. Edith followed behind us, with Teddy shortly after her.

Luckily, the sky was bright and sunny – a perfect summer morning. I was relieved to find that part of my dream had not become reality. Of course I knew Henry wasn't dead, nor that Penelope would come wearing her wedding dress and obnoxiously laugh at me, but I was nervous to enter the church nevertheless.

As we entered, everyone was already in the pews. The organist was playing a soft, soothing song as we walked down the aisle. The coffin was set up in front, with hundreds of lilies on top and draped over the side to the floor. An opulent display worthy of the woman inside the mahogany coffin.

Bouquets of wine carnations lined either side of the aisle and on either of the coffin. Had it not been for that object, it might have seemed like a wedding instead. There were flowers everywhere one looked. The church was filled with dozens of floral fragrances it nearly caused a headache.

Another difference from my dream, I had realized as we made our way to the front pews reserved for family, was that the coffin was shut. I breathed a sigh of relief at this. I should have figured – Mother was in no shape to have an open casket. She would have been embarrassed by how she looked and forbidden it.

Quickly, I scanned the crowd. Everyone kept his or her heads politely looking forward. While no one was wearing white, I still could not see Henry or even Penelope. I could only see the backs of everyone's heads and all the men had the same hair cut and all the women wore the same style of hair – low bun or pompadour – hidden beneath the same black hat. I couldn't find anyone I knew if I tried harder.

When we all reached the first pew and sat, Reverend Needlehouse, now seeming as ancient as the building, took to the podium. The organist brought the music to a gradual stop and, as the last notes echoed around the church, silence fell.

"It is with heavy hearts that we all gather today," Reverend Needlehouse began. He pointed to the coffin and went on, "Louisa Adora Holland went into the kingdom of Heaven and joined her beloved husband, Edward Holland, once more."

Reverend Needlehouse continued on talking about Mother's many charitable donations to the church and other places around the city and how adored she had been by the community. He said her soul lived on inside Elizabeth and me, eyeing both of us with a sad smile. He quoted several bible verses that dealt with death, love, and Heaven.

I began droning him out, knowing that if I listened too closely, I would break down in tears. Instead, I stared intently at the coffin, then at each stained glass window that told of the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. I counted each flower in the bouquets on the sides of her coffin – 75 on the left and 67 on the right.

Reverend Needlehouse finished by saying, "The family of Louisa Holland invite anyone who would like to attend to join them at the final resting place, next to her husband."

It was our cue to stand. After we rose from our sears, everyone else in the church stood as well. The benches groaned underneath them and skirts ruffled and were smoothed down.

Elizabeth took my hand. We waited for the pallbearers to lift Mother's coffin and I watched them intently as they passed us, trying to imagine Mother inside. The large box seemed to be too big to be holding her tiny, fragile body inside. She had looked so helplessly small when I saw her last; nothing like the Mother I had known my whole life.

It was only after the pallbearers, including Teddy, proceeded past us that Elizabeth, Edith, and I were able to leave our pew and follow behind Mother's coffin. I wanted to keep my eyes low so as not to see the leering eyes of the New York social class but curiosity kept my head up. I saw Lina and next to her was her sister, Claire. They gave me sad smiles as I went by them. I saw, peculiarly, a man startlingly familiar right next to Lina – Grayson Hayes, Penelope's brother. It felt like so long ago that I had a romantic tryst with him, which eventually led to Henry enlisting in the army.

I quickly glanced away before I could meet his eyes. I saw all the usual people – Agnes Jones (who was, I guess, now Agnes Coddington) and Percival Coddington, Amos Vreewold, far off cousins none of us had spoken to since we were young children, and Isaac Buck Phillips. At the sight of him, I grew rigid next to Elizabeth for wherever Buck was, a certain someone was almost always _very_ close by.

Buck and Penelope had always been devilishly close for as long as I could remember. She always concocted evil plans and he gleefully executed them. Though the truth of his pedigree was murky, he lived as though on top of the world, with Penelope by his side as his evil queen.

I gulped loudly and glanced at the faces nearby Buck. Sure enough, there she was. Her black hair tumbled and was perfectly curled around her face – she must have been the only one whose hair was not up, as if she _wanted_ to stand out. Of course she did. Penelope always had a flair for the dramatic. When our eyes met, I could tell by the small smirk on her face that she had been waiting for this moment for a very long time. Her arctic blue eyes turned me to ice.

It wasn't the sight of her, though, that made my jaw go slack and my mouth open in a small "o" shape. It was the person she was next to, whose arm she was clutching tightly against her side. On his left hand that was gripped tightly by Penelope, I recognized the familiar wedding band.

Henry Schoonmaker and Penelope were still married. The divorce he always said would happen never did. They were still dreadfully married.

I locked eyes with Henry only for a split second before a mixture of red rage and immense depression made me look away. In that second that we shared a gaze, his eyes looked at me, silently pleading.

I thought back to his letter he had written only just yesterday. I wondered if he meant anything he had said or if it was all just some cruel joke to him. Penelope had her claws so deep inside him; she had turned him against me. They were each deriving some sort of sick pleasure in toying with me. The pleading look he had just given me was all part of the game. They were probably laughing to each other now, but decorum forbade me from turning around. I could only hope that my face hadn't portrayed too strongly how hurt I was.

I quickened my pace, pulling Elizabeth with me until we walked out the church's doors. I gasped for air as if I had never breathed before. Since the beginning of the service, clouds began to move in and were blocking out the hot summer sun. It would rain soon.

My dream – or nightmare, really – had in fact come true after all. Penelope was right – Henry would never be mine. He loved her now. _She_ was his true bride now.

I had been in New York for _days_ and no one had told me or even hinted to the fact that Henry was still married to the Siren called Penelope.

The moment we left the church, I turned to Elizabeth who was looking at me worriedly. Everyone was filing out of the church after us to watch the burial.

With my voice full of venom and between gasps for air, I whispered to Elizabeth, "You knew. You knew this entire time they were still married." My ability to breathe had improved only somewhat but if anyone heard me, they would assume it was the grief of Mother that caused it. My voice was low, only Elizabeth had heard what I said.

"Diana, I–" she started, her brown eyes widening in shock.

I interrupted, "Don't speak to me. After this funeral, we are done."

Her mouth was left open in surprise. It was moving as if she was trying to speak but nothing came out. For appearance's sake, I kept Elizabeth's hand in mine and dragged her along forward, out of the throng of people crowding the outside of the church talking about how lovely the service was.

We continued following the pallbearers around to the back of the church where some church staff were quickly setting up a small tent over the prepared burial site, preparing for the inevitable rain fall.

I was still struggling to get air into my lungs. I replayed Henry's letter and the desperate look on his face over and over, only fueling the desire to scream and flee the funeral and the country altogether. Somehow I managed to keep my emotions composed, unwilling to let Penelope or Henry win if they still saw me. Elizabeth stayed silent next to me as we went under the tent.

After a few minutes of waiting for everyone who wished to join us to quiet down, Reverend Needlehouse again started up a small dialogue, reading Mother her last rites. Shortly after he began, the sky let loose a loud, clap up thunder startling everyone under the tent. Reverend Needlehouse began to speak with a quicker pace but it was too late. A downpour was upon us shortly after he began speaking. He had to raise his voice and yell above the pound of the rain on the tent.

But I barely heard a thing.

My eyes were concentrated on Mother's coffin, seeing her slowly lowered into the only patch of dry earth in the entire courtyard now. While I kept my face as emotionless as stone, I could not do anything to stop the tears that fell.

On the other side of me, Edith took my hand into hers and gave it a small squeeze. I jerked my hands away from both her and Elizabeth then, not touching either of them. In my eyes, they were both traitors.

To Mother's right sat an all-too-familiar gravestone. "Edward Holland, April 15, 1854 – January 3, 1899. Beloved son, father, and friend." I still remembered his funeral as if it were yesterday. We all thought it was a natural death in the Klondike that turned out to be something much, much more sinister. At that time though, before we discovered what had truly happened between Father and Mr. Cairns, it had seemed like the end of the world. Father had always been the buffer between Mother and me. When he died, I felt that I had no true friends in the world anymore.

And now that was true again. _Why_ hadn't Elizabeth told me? Why hadn't _anyone_ told me? I was far too selfish at that moment to admit that I had never asked anyone and, out of self-pity, I had stopped anyone who tried to tell me anything about Henry. I would realize later, of course, how foolish I had been but right then I could only see in shades of red.

It was that anger and frustration, mixed with the emotions over Mother's funeral, which had made me cry all those tears then. I vaguely wondered if I would have still cried had I not seen Henry with Penelope. I was inconsolable when Father had died and all through his funeral. I realized that Mother and I weren't close and I often was the cause of her excusing herself to rest because she'd gotten a headache. But she was my mother after all – shouldn't I feel more?

Elizabeth stood, interrupting my thoughts. Reverend Needlehouse had finished speaking and, as head of our family now, she took a handful of dirt and threw it on top of the coffin, now deep in the ground. I always fond this part of the ceremony terrifyingly rude. Who thought the proper, last goodbye to a loved one was throwing dirt on them? They would be covered with it soon enough – what good does one fistful do?

She took her seat quietly next to me again. It was my turn next. In a quick motion I stood, scooped dirt into my hand and let it fall on top of her mahogany coffin whose flowers were now gone and probably still in the church ready to be reused for some service or for Elizabeth's centerpiece in her home. Before I took my seat again, I looked down below where the two handfuls of dirt had fallen. I wanted to remember it. This would be the last time I would ever see Mother again, despite her actual body being hidden away inside the box.

"I'm sorry. Goodbye," I whispered.

Without looking at the crowd or my family, I took my chair. I watched Edith go next, followed by other less immediate family members and finally whoever wished to give her luck – or whatever the ritual symbolized – in the afterlife.

After the rain had started, a vast majority of funeral goers abandoned the burial service to return back to their warm, comfortable homes that were far bigger than necessary to plan their next party, away from all the sadness of the funeral. To them, this whole event was just an ordeal blocking them from leading their carefree, ignorant lives.

The few remaining spectators put their handful in. When they had finished, they would let out a little squeal and laugh as they ran to their awaiting carriages in the pouring rain. Their obligations were done. Now they could lay about for the rest of the day with their servants bringing them iced tea and sandwiches while they did whatever was fashionable – reading (though nothing of substance I'm sure), napping, or perhaps playing a card game with whiskey or bourbon in their hands.

Soon enough, it was only us three women left. When I stood and turned around, I had nearly expected Henry to be standing there. I had prepared a scalding speech in my head ready the second I saw him but he wasn't there. No one was. Just Elizabeth, Aunt Edith, and me.

"Diana, if you would just let me explain–" Elizabeth began.

I turned to her quickly, my skirts swirling about me. With blood burning under my skin, I gave her a vicious look that silenced her immediately.

"You – _both_ of you – neglected to tell me not only that Henry was married but that he remained married to… to… _that_? I expected to see him married, I will say that. But to her?" I shook my head, absolutely dumbfounded. "And no one told. This is the worst kind of betrayal. I would expect this from Penelope, but not you. Not my own family."

"Di, _please_ –" begged Elizabeth.

I turned away from them both and began stomping out of the tent, into the downpour.

Edith chased after me, yelling, "Where are you going? The carriage is this way. You'll catch your death!"

I ignored her and kept walking out of the cemetery, getting drenched in the process. The rain was good – it cooled me down and felt as if it were cleansing me. I could no longer tell whether the water on my face was pure tears or a mixture of that with the rain. I knew I looked like a blubbering mess as I turned onto the sidewalk and headed in the opposite direction of the carriage Edith would take home.

I didn't know where I planned on going, only that I did not want to be around my family. Eventually when the rain had cooled me off, I could feel the coldness start to sink into my bones. I wrapped my arms around myself to try and keep some of my own heat but it wasn't going well

I hadn't paid attention to where my legs were taking me until I looked up through my soaked hat and saw a very familiar fifth avenue mansion towering over the street.

The famous Schoonmaker residence.

I had been there many times before, both publicly and secretly. Those days were so far away now that they felt more like a dream than reality. Sometimes, I wished they were.

I stood there, staring at the grandiose house for what seemed like a long time. Through the torrential storm, I could make out shapes inside some of the front rooms – mostly maids and servants, I guessed.

One room on the first floor suddenly lit up with light and I saw two figures through the window. I knew that room – it had once belonged to Henry's father, William, as his personal study. Since he had died, I assumed the use was passed down onto Henry. I recognized the figures inside now – Henry and Penelope. They appeared to be arguing, maybe about a difference in ideas they had to publicly embarrass me or ruin whatever happiness I still held inside of me.

Henry yelled something, and threw his arms in the air. Penelope's face contorted into something evil and with a jab of her pointer finger, Henry turned away shaking his head. However, they way he turned was to the window to look outside. His eyes were downcast and he rested his knuckles on the windowsill. I couldn't tell if he was speaking then, but knew Penelope's mouth was not moving.

They were both still in their funeral attire, but Henry's first three buttons of his white shirt were undone and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.

He slammed his hand down hard on the windowsill, shaking the glass, and I saw Penelope jump in shock. He looked up then, out of the window. His face looked clearly distraught until he saw me. I saw him mouth my name and his face changed to confusion. He jumped away from the window with Penelope clearly still angry and he left the room. He turned right in the doorway and I knew exactly where he was headed – outside, to me.

I turned away immediately and, with quick steps, kept walking. My teeth were chattering, I realized, and I had started shivering uncontrollably. My toes had long since been numb, so I tripped over myself lightly as I walked.

"Diana!" I heard his voice call. I closed my eyes and bit my lip when all the times he had called my name came flooding back. The sound of his familiar, deep voice nearly stopped me in my tracks. More than anything I wanted to turn around and kiss the very lips I had dreamt of every night for seven years and touch the torso of the man I had memorized every inch of.

But I did none of these things. I only kept walking. What was earlier an unfathomable anger had turned into profound sadness.

I heard his feet on the pavement running to me. With all my might, I willed my frozen legs to walk faster or for me to sprout wings and fly far, far away.

"Diana, stop," Henry said, voice lowering. I was shocked how close he was. A hand touched my elbow and I grabbed it back.

 _Walk faster,_ I begged my feet.

This time, he went for my wrist. He grabbed it tightly. I tried to pull it back again but I should have known that would be useless.

"Let me go," I said. I tried to sound as venomous as his wife always was, but my chattering teeth made me sound rather quiet pathetic.

I had no choice but to turn to him. I saw him then – really saw him. He was the Henry I had always known. His sharp jawline was dotted with stubble as if he had forgotten to shave for a few days. His skin was as golden and soft as ever. His dark hair, which had always been neatly pomaded to the right, was ruffled and messy and speckled with a few dozen grey hairs here and there. He was getting as drenched as me in the process of standing there staring at me.

I could actually feel myself breaking as I stood there, looking at the man I had given everything and nothing to. His deep eyes searched mine, looking for something. I could only assume what I looked like to him – a small, wet girl who was absolutely and positively… _empty_. I couldn't hold back my tears. They mixed with the rain my hat could no longer deflect away.

I saw something come over his face then. Some sort of want or need ignited in his dark eyes. I recognized the look a split second too late. Both of his hands cupped either side of my jaw and he brought his lips flush against mine.

I closed my eyes and floated back to the many times we had kissed before. From the first time in our lesser parlor after he'd proposed to Elizabeth, to the last time on the docks, and everything in between; in my bedroom, late at night; in his family greenhouse; in secret rooms at large fetes where we were each supposed to be with other people; in Cuba, drenched by the rain, or the lazy, half-asleep kisses in the middle of the night.

A loud clap of thunder brought me back to the present and I leaped away from him and the kiss.

Before he could dive in again, I took three steps back. I brought my fingers up to my lips in shock of what had just been against them. I could still feel him against me, the familiar electricity still running through my body. I glanced at his left hand to convince myself again why I was angry. Sure enough, the gold band met my gaze. Then I looked back into his deep eyes, – eyes I swore I could swim inside forever – shook my head, and turned around.


	11. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

 **The services of Mrs. Louisa Holland will be held today at Grace Church, 800 Broadway in Manhattan at 10 AM. We expect to see, of course, Mrs. Elizabeth Cutting escorted by Theodore "Teddy" Cutting and their beautiful children. This will also be the first public appearance of Miss Diana Holland since her return to America this past week end. Our sympathies are extended to the Holland family during this dark time.**

-From the Society Pages of _The New York Times_ , Wednesday, July 3, 1907

* * *

"Diana. Diana, wait," Henry said, chasing up to me again. "Just come inside, okay? We can talk."

"'We'?" I snapped, stopping suddenly. Henry nearly ran into me. "Who's 'we'? You, me, and… Penelope?"

Henry sighed. "God, Diana, if you would just let me explain–"

"What is this to you, huh? Is this a game to you, to both of you? Has it been all along?"

"What? No! Of course not!"

"'True bride'." I scoffed. "Nice touch, Henry."

"It's not what you think!"

I chuckled out a fake, empty laugh. "It never is, is it? When you got engaged to Penelope? _Married_ to Penelope? _Slept_ with Penelope on that god-awful trip to Florida? I should have known. It was right in front of me all along. I mean, how _stupid_ am I, to not have guessed it sooner?"

Henry was shaking his head, waiting for me to finish.

"Guessed _what_?" he asked.

"Penelope came up with it, I'm sure. I should have known," I said again. "I always thought it was only Penelope that was in love with you. But you've been in love with her all this time, too. And together you saw me and decided, what, it would be a fun game to toy with me, right? To make me fall in love with you?"

"Diana, no–"

"What I don't get, though, is the ending. Was there some grand finale you both came up with? Did I cut it short by leaving that day seven years ago?"

"STOP!" Henry screamed, silencing anything else I could have said. "Diana, just _stop_. You've got it all wrong. There was no game, not from the first day we met. Before I ever met you, it's true that I thought Penelope and I would marry. Not any time soon, but I thought that was what laid at the end of the tunnel. But then… I met you. And my whole world shifted right out from under me. Everything changed. Suddenly, who I was, what I had done – none of that mattered because someone as perfect for me as you existed in the world.

"And the day you left? God, it was like the world I had finally come to know and embrace crashed all around me. Without you, nothing mattered anymore. Not New York, not my father's business, not even myself. I didn't _care_ anymore. The day you left, I came back home and I realized… I didn't want to live a life without you – _could_ not live a life without you."

I swallowed the tight lump in my throat.

"I would have come with you," he continued after a moment of silence. "I would have gone on that boat with you that day because, without you, this city meant nothing to me. These people were nothing to me."

"Why didn't you try to find me?" I asked. "I only told you to stay because I thought that's what you would have wanted."

He sighed. "What I wanted was you, Diana. For years I bought tickets to Paris but never once did I board a ship. You told me to stay here, so I did. I thought you would come back, but when you didn't I thought you had stopped loving me."

"So, what, you figured you should stay with Penelope since I wasn't around? That makes no sense, Henry. You were _miserable_ with her. I thought you were smarter than that."

"You don't understand Diana–"

"Then _make_ me understand! Make me understand how the hell you could stay married to a woman like that."

"Penelope was pregnant."

Whatever words I would have said clogged in my throat. A guttural noise was all that came out. Henry read my expression and quickly spoke.

"No, no! Not mine," he said quickly, hands extended out as if surrendering.

"What–" I stuttered, searching for words. "Pregnant? A-Are you sure?"

"Yes. A doctor confirmed it."

"Because she did it before – a fake pregnancy – you know."

It was on that Florida trip that Penelope successfully seduced a very drunk Henry for the first time since their marriage. When Henry first approached her regarding a divorce after everyone's return, she made up a fake pregnancy to keep him. If he did leave her then, it would be catastrophic for his family's image forever.

Henry nodded. "Yes, yes, I know she did. I remembered. But it wasn't like that this time. It was real."

" _Who_?" I asked, wondering who could have possibly impregnated Penelope.

"That damned Prince of Bavaria. They had a one night fling, which was apparently enough."

"So… she had a child?'

He shook his head. "No," he said, his eyes falling. "She miscarried at four and a half months."

"Oh," I said dumbfounded.

"And that… that devastated her. At first, I had stayed with her to protect her image. The news that the Prince had left her high and dry was still massively circulating by the time news of the pregnancy broke. Everyone was saying it was the Prince's. They were tearing her apart. I had to make a public statement to say it was mine."

I nearly gagged at those words and I could tell it was difficult for him to even say. The image of him in my eyes was shaking more now. I couldn't stop my shivering if someone had paid me a thousand dollars.

Henry noticed and took a tentative step toward me. I was too frozen to find my feet and move them away.

"Diana, let's take this inside. I can't have you dying just when I get you back again."

My heart raced at his words and, despite the cold, I felt my cheeks flush.

"No," I said. "I'm not going anywhere near… her."

"She's not like that anymore. When she found out she was pregnant, she changed. She was no darling angel by far, but she was better. And then…" He trailed off.

"Then?"

"When she lost the baby, she changed again. She became… blank. Empty. She wouldn't eat or talk for days. She didn't leave the house for months. At one point she… she… Diana, she tried to take her own life."

I gasped. The Penelope I knew would never try to kill herself. She always took life by the horns and steered it her whatever way she pleased.

"I couldn't leave her. You get that, don't you? She still has days where I worry because she goes into this withdrawn shell and doesn't talk to anyone or even leave her bed. She needs someone to watch her, to make sure she doesn't do anything."

"For seven _years_?" I asked.

Henry shrugged helplessly. "I couldn't live with myself if something happened and I could have stopped it, regardless of who it was."

I remembered the smug look on Penelope's face at the funeral. I couldn't imagine her being so distraught to the point of killing herself. She loved and adored herself too much to do anything of the sort before I left. But I guess a pregnancy has a way of shifting one's views.

"Please, Diana – just come inside. You look nearly blue. I promise I won't let Penelope come near you."

I remembered the large fireplace and fur blankets he had in his family's parlor room and wished more than anything to be able to experience them both right then. At the same time, I wasn't sure I was ready to dive back into that world just yet.

"I can't," I said, shaking my head.

"Why not?" He sounded almost hurt by my rejection.

Memories flooded my mind – everything I had done and been through those last seven years – and I realized the type of woman I had become. I was no longer the type of girl who should be allowed into houses like that who were owned by people like him. We were worlds apart.

"I just… can't." I pleaded him with my eyes not to press me further.

Henry sighed and took a moment. I could tell there were a million questions running through his mind.

"Fine," he said at last. "At least let me get you home."

I was about to protest again but he was already running back into his house.

A minute later he came running out again with an umbrella in his hand. I nearly burst out laughing. We were already both soaked to our cores. Using an umbrella now seemed stupid.

"Are we walking?" I asked, worried and wondering if my feet were even able to still move.

"Only if I am taking you to your sister's," he answered, putting the umbrella over the both of us. He was mere inches from me now, leaving me breathless. I could smell his cologne on him as he towered over me. I had no choice but to stay close to him.

"No," I said. "Gramercy."

Henry nodded looking down at me. "I figured. I'm having our carriage brought out and my butler is making you some tea to warm you up on your ride."

"Thank you," I said quietly, looking down at my soaked skirt and his skinny black shoes that glistened in the wetness of the rain.

It took all I had not to look up into his eyes that I knew were looking at me and kiss him right there on the street. His kissing me out on the street, I realized, was far too risky. While there were no pedestrians other than us, anyone could have looked out their windows and saw us. Perhaps by now, Davis Barnard had already heard and had a section of his column ready for publishing on Henry and me. If that were the case, then at least I had the comfort in knowing that it wouldn't be released until tomorrow.

Horse hooves came clacking around the corner and I let out a sigh of relief. At the same time, a middle-aged man came out of the house holding a small teacup in one hand and an umbrella in the other. Henry took my waist in his large hands and easily lifted me into the carriage and out of the deluge. He then took the tea from his butler and handed it to me. I could still feel his fingers on either side of my body and wished for nothing more than for his hands to be on me again. While I held the warm porcelain cup in my hands, Henry ran to the other side of the carriage and climbed in.

"You're coming with?" I had imagined myself taking the carriage alone and quiet peace.

"Of course," he said reaching across from him to the other side of seats where a large, thickly knitted blanket was folded. He draped it across both our laps. "I should make sure you get home safely."

I moved further away from him and closer to the door. The carriage jerked forward and I had to be careful not to spill the hot liquid all over me.

"How have you been, Diana?" he asked.

I laughed. It sounded weird coming from him, like someone catching up with an old acquaintance. We were so much more than old acquaintances.

To deflect from my answering, I instead asked, "What were you and Penelope fighting about?"

He sighed and looked at his lap. "Diana…"

"It was me, wasn't it?" I paused and when he didn't answer I knew it was true. "You say Penelope has changed but I really don't see it. You should have seen the way she looked at me at the funeral."

"She _has_ changed, Diana, I promise you. Whatever you saw, or thought you saw… it's not true. But you're right: We were fighting, but only because seeing you caught her off-guard. She didn't know you were back and she was upset I didn't tell her."

I sipped my tea as he spoke. "If she's changed, why does it matter to her?"

"For so long she's wanted to make amends to you."

I laughed loudly. "Penelope? Make _amends_?" I laughed again. Never in a million years could I see Penelope apologizing to anyone, let alone me.

But Henry didn't laugh.

"It's true. She wanted us to go to Paris so she could do just that."

I shook my head. "No, that can't be right. Sounds more like she wanted to prove to me that you two were, in fact, still married."

Henry was getting visibly irritated at everything I was saying. "I _promise_ you, Diana. She's not like that anymore."

"Luckily for you both, I won't be around long. I leave next Saturday so I won't ruin your _perfect_ –" I spat the word, "marriage."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his face drop.

"You're leaving again?" he asked quietly. "So soon?'

I didn't answer nor did I meet his gaze for the rest of the four-mile ride. I sipped the rest of the tea in silence, letting the heat of it slowly warm me from the inside out. When the carriage pulled up in front of Gramercy, I handed the empty teacup to him. I peeled back the blanket and took the chance to look at him. I tried not to read too much into his expression.

With a polite tone that I reserved for meeting strangers for the first time and one I had learned from Elizabeth, I said, "Thank you for delivering me home, Mr. Schoonmaker. I assume your wife expects you home shortly. Have a good day."

I let the carriage driver help me down and entered Gramercy without a look back at Henry who was no doubt watching me leave. Good, I thought. I wanted him to watch me and see what he had missed all these years. The wet dress clung to my body and its many curves – curves women were not supposed to show in public.

"Good God, Diana, where _have_ you been?" Aunt Edith said rounding the corner.

I was really not in the mood to talk to Edith or explain everything that had just happened. So instead, I simply said, "I went for a walk. I needed to clear my head."

"All the way from Grace Church?" she asked, appalled as if half a mile was atrocious. "You've been gone three hours!"

I didn't have it in me to say I had walked more than _three_ miles north, instead of south, all the way up near Central Park on Fifth Avenue. So I just shrugged.

"Well, I'll send Ethel up with you to put you in some dry clothes. Supper will be ready in an hour. I think we both deserve an early night."

I went up the stairs without responding, still upset no one had told me about Henry and Penelope, regardless of her supposed "change." My feet felt heavier than ever, and that wasn't even including the weight of my drenched dress.

The way Henry was defending Penelope made me wonder if he had, in fact, fallen in love with her. I guess it was only natural. They had been married this whole time and spent every day together. Both my grandparents arranged Mother and Father's marriage and they fell in love. Penelope arranged her marriage to Henry, so it really wasn't too far-fetched.

If he had fallen in love with her, then was he even still in love with me, the way I was with him?

 _True bride_.

Maybe he only cared for me now, as you would an old friend. Maybe he only _thought_ he was still in love with me, and seeing me earlier then affirmed he no longer loved me. No matter how much he said he wanted me, he never did come. He even said he never did board a ship.

While I waited for Ethel, I touched my fingertips to my lips where his and mine had collided, only minutes ago.

 _True bride_.

Ethel walked in and jerked my hand away as if she would be able to tell somehow that I had just been kissed.

"Let's get you into something warm, hm?" she said closing the door.

I remembered when I was younger, before I had known Henry Schoonmaker, I would create wild fantasies with Claire when she was my maid. There were fantastic, mysterious men aboard ships or handsome princes from small, far away countries. Then when I met Henry, things changed. I didn't need those far off fantasies because _he_ had become my all-consuming, heart-wrenching, dramatic fantasy.

"Diana? Miss Diana?"

Ethel had been calling my name for quiet some time, I realized.

"What?"

"I asked if you would please lean forward and lift your arms for me," Ethel, I guess, repeated.

"Oh. Yes."

I obliged and let a cold shiver run down the length of my body by the time she had taken everything off. I was given new, warmer underclothes and saw the black crepe dress, another replica, she was planning on fitting me into. I groaned audibly.

"Miss?" Ethel asked.

I felt more tired than I had been in days. I exaggerated just a little bit for Ethel. I took a weary seat on the edge of my bed. I took that time to glance up in her direction.

"I'm just not feeling well," I said trying to sound weak and helpless.

"Are you getting sick?" she asked, her voice full of care and worry. It reminded me of being a small child before Father died. Mother was much kinder then. Ethel's tone was a near exact replica when I became ill as a child.

"Do you mind if I just rest for the remainder of the day?" I said, looking down and away from her. It really was half true – I could feel a headache coming along right behind my eyes and I was dreadfully tired. Then there was the complete disdain in seeing the dress, knowing all the contraptions I would have to be strapped and sealed into.

"Should I bring you your supper in here then?" Ethel asking, still sounding worried. I nodded and she added, "I'll send one of the other girls up to start your fireplace."

I nodded again and watched in delight as she folded the black dress she was gong to put me into and put it away. She pulled out my nightgown, plan as could be, and slipped it over my head. My hair was quickly brushed and braided. Had it still been short, it would have been dry by then. Since it was now longer, it was still quite damp and created a wet spot in the center of my back.

Ethel quickly scooped my drenched clothes off the floor and left the room. I curled back my covers and dove under the blankets immediately. Despite it being around four o'clock and my blinds still open letting in the dreary, rainy shade of the day, I nearly fell instantly asleep.


	12. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

 **For the first time in six years, Miss Carolina Broud will not be hosting her annual Independence Day party. I know I, along with many others, were looking forward to this event but it is very thoughtful of Miss Broud to cancel on the account of the societal loss we all have endured over these last few days. However, seeing the youngest Holland girl for the first time in that many years has lifted the city's spirits.**

\- From the "Gamesome Gallant" column in the _New York Imperial_ , Thursday, July 4, 1907

* * *

I woke up sometime later that night feeling worse than I had in a long time. The headache was now a fully-grown migraine. My body was drenched. For a moment I had forgotten that Ethel had changed me at all so I thought I was still wearing my wet dress from the funeral. I was covered in sweat and had a large fire in the fireplace at the end of my bed, but I was still feeling as cold as I was when I had come back. I looked at the table beside my bed and saw the tray of food. My stomach turned and I had to look away immediately to keep from getting sick. Instead, I looked towards my window. It was too dark to see anything but I could hear a light rainfall hitting the window over the crackling fire. I had no idea how long I had been asleep but if the food was still next to the bed, it couldn't have been too long. I guessed that it was still before eight o'clock.

I closed my eyes to keep the room from spinning and fell back asleep only to be woken up what felt like moments later by a cool hand touching my cheek. Now, instead of being cold I felt unbearably hot. I instinctively turned toward the cool hand, enjoying the feeling.

When I opened my eyes I saw Ethel standing above me.

"You're very warm," she said soothingly. "I think you have a fever."

My mouth was very dry so I clucked my tongue on the room of my mouth and closed my eyes again. I didn't know I'd fallen back asleep until Ethel nudged me and forced me to drink a glass of water.

"I'll tell Miss Edith you are unwell and you must be excused from condolence visits tomorrow. You just rest."

I nodded weakly and turned away to curl into ball. I had completely forgotten about the days' events and the fact that we would still get visitors who wished to say their sympathies.

The next time I fell asleep, it was for the remainder of the night.

Morning light came streaming through my window to wake me up again. The curtains were never drawn the night before, probably because Ethel was still new to paying attention to this room.

I groaned and turned away from the light. I used my hands to shield my face from it in the room.

I felt like absolute death. My stomach roiled inside of me while my eyes felt like sticks of dynamite were constantly exploding behind them. For whatever reason, my body could not find its way back to sleep again. So instead I just laid there and accepted my fate.

So this was life's way of getting back at me for the events of yesterday. After abandoning my family and kissing a married man, this was my karma.

Ethel came up a while later holding a small ceramic plate and a glass of water in her hands. The smell of toast and butter greeted me and I groaned in repulsion.

"You have to eat something, Miss Diana," Ethel said.

She took a seat on the edge of my bed and held the plate out. I looked from her, to the plate, to her again with a look of complete disgust. She continued holding it out. Reluctantly, I sat up in the bed and winced at the pain in my head as it intensified. I slowly took the plate from her.

"You shouldn't have gone off like that, Miss Diana," Ethel chastised, looking down at me with a frown.

I sighed. "Are _you_ really in a position to lecture me?" I asked bitterly. A second later, I regretted my words. "I'm sorry, Ethel. That was really unkind and rude of me to say. I didn't mean it."

I was letting my anger at Aunt Edith and Elizabeth flow into Ethel who had been nothing but kind to me.

Ethel's eyes were downcast but she accepted my apology with a slow nod of her head.

"It's alright," she said.

"What time is it?" I asked. I took a bite of my toast. To take my mind off the taste of it, I looked out the window and tried to gauge the time myself before she told me. Nine? Ten?

"Almost one o'clock, Miss."

"I've been asleep all day?" I said, sitting up straighter. How could an entire morning pass and no one came to wake me up?

"Well, I came up earlier this morning. You were still running a fever so I didn't want to wake you."

I took another slow bite of toast and just muttered, "Oh."

"The doctor should be here shortly to have a look at you. Your Aunt Edith is worried since, well… since you visited with the Mrs. Holland."

My eyes widened. "You all think I've got what she had?"

"She just wants to make sure you're alright. I want the same thing as well." She patted me on the leg. "Keep eating. I'll be back when the doctor is here. Rest until then."

"I really am sorry for what I said, Ethel. I was taking out my anger on you, and that's not fair. I do hope you can forgive me."

She smiled at me and patted my leg again. "Of course, Miss Diana. But why are you upset? Is it your mother?"

I took in a deep breath. "That's only the tip of the iceberg, I'm afraid."

Her hand rested on my knee over the covers. "Would you like to talk? I'm told I'm a great listener."

"Do you know Mr. Schoonmaker?"

Ethel's eyebrow cocked with curiosity. "Well, I don't know him, but I know _of_ him. Everyone does." She leaned forward, eager to hear more but just the thought of him made my stomach rumble unhappily.

I quickly told her about how we met and everything that had happened since then, including the trip to Florida, meeting in Cuba, and my eventual leaving.

"Wow," she breathed when I had finished. "You're like… star-crossed lovers! Romeo and Juliet!"

I almost laughed. Here was this woman who must have been in her mid-thirties was gushing over my wreck of a love life. I knew she must have read the columns when I was in New York previously and so therefor must know the marriage I very nearly wrecked. Well, now I knew that marriage had indeed lasted.

I sighed. "It _feels_ like I'm inside a nightmare and can't wake up."

"So why are you so upset?"

I swallowed down the bile at the back of my throat. "I didn't come back with the intent of marrying him, or even seeing him. I just… I didn't expect him to still be married to _her_. And with all the letters I had gotten and all the time I spent home so far, no one told me. I shouldn't have been so caught off guard."

"Did anyone try to tell you? I find it hard to believe that anyone would maliciously hide it from you, Miss Diana."

I pursed my lips. The back of my mind was beginning to understand that perhaps I had overreacted. I pushed it away, too prideful to admit it.

"No one seemed to, no," I finally answered. It was true that I had stopped everyone from talking about Henry but that was only because I feared my heart couldn't take it. But to hide a whole marriage? That was too big to ignore.

"Well," Ethel said smiling politely, "either way, I don't think they did – or didn't – do that to upset you."

I huffed knowing she was right but still wasn't ready to admit it. I ate the rest of my toast in silence and drank a little more, growing tired with every bite and swallow. Ethel noticed my eyes going dull.

"I'll leave you to rest more, Miss," she said quietly and took the plate and water out of my hands. She put the water beside my bed and got up. My curtains were finally drawn. I was already half asleep by the time she left the room.

Sometime later I heard my door open. I kept my eyes shut thinking it was just Ethel again doing some chore or another. I heard a chair scrape against the floorboards - the chair from my vanity – to beside my bed. What was Ethel doing? And why did her feet sound so much heavier? I peered open my eyes to see what she could possibly be doing and gasped in shock.

Henry's deep, worldly eyes and sharp jawline met my gaze as he took the seat. Instinctively, I pulled my covers up over my body even thought he already knew what was beneath.

"Henry, just _what_ do you think you're doing up here? If my Aunt Edith catches you…"

"She's actually the one who told me to come up."

" _What_?"

"I was going to visit anyways but then she told me you were sick. I told her to convey to you that I had come to visit and that I would stop by in a day or two when you were better, but instead she told me to come up and see you right away."

I stared at him, wondering if that was true. It was totally inappropriate for a man to visit a woman in bed if they weren't married. It was particularly scandalous when the man was married to another woman. If anyone heard of this visit, I would be ruined – again – only this time Henry would be pulled down with me.

But I figured what he was saying must have been true. Aunt Edith would have been in the parlor to receive and there was no way he would have been able to sneak upstairs without her noticing him.

"Why would she do that?" I asked, mostly to myself. Henry shrugged. "Why were you going to visit me?" I asked instead.

"I didn't get the chance a couple days ago to extend my official condolences."

"You wrote a letter," I told him. "That was satisfactory enough. You hardly needed to visit." I tried to sound cool and aloof but whatever sickness I had within me – I hardly had the time to worry about Mother's illness possibly infecting me – ruined that.

"Diana, stop it," he snapped. "I don't know why you're acting like this."

"If you don't know, then you hardly deserve to be here."

"I had no choice! I wouldn't be able to live with myself if anything happened and I could have stopped it, no matter who it was. I know Penelope was quite a savage back then but she just isn't like that anymore."

"Do you even hear yourself?" I snapped back. "'I had no choice.' That's _exactly_ what she wants! She's trapped you, Henry. You can't see it but it's abundantly clear to me."

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're sick and it is clouding your judgement."

"I want you to leave," I said in a low, slow voice.

"What?"

I repeated, "I want you to leave."

"Why?"

"Because this is wrong! You shouldn't be here, in my room. You should be, if anywhere, downstairs talking to Aunt Edith about something mundane like the weather or wallpaper. And…"

"And?"

"And… because this is like torture! It _is_ torture."

"What is?"

"You!"

"Me?"

"Seeing you here after all these years… Henry, I never stopped loving you. And to come back and see you're still with Penelope – the girl who ruined everything and still managed to make herself a martyr – it's painful for me. It _hurts_. I wanted you to get a happily ever after. But instead I get back and see you living inside a nightmare. She's bewitched you and you're too blinded by guilt to see it. It's not only hurting me, Henry, but it's hurting you, too."

He was quiet, listening to everything I said. There was a long silence that passed between us. I was half afraid he would just get up and leave but at the same time I wanted him to leave – leave my room, leave my mind, and leave my memories. But that was all wishful thinking. Instead, he reached out his hand and clasped mine tightly in his.

"Diana, the _last_ thing I would ever want to do is hurt you. You know that."

"Do I?" I scoffed. "I thought I knew you, Henry. But the person I see in front of me is a stranger." I slipped my hand out of his.

I had to look away from him because the hurt in his eyes was too much. It killed me knowing that he was in pain because of me.

"Please, Diana. You have to believe me."

"I want to, Henry. I really do. You may truly believe that Penelope is this whole new person, and she may have been at first, but Penelope can only be kind for so long before she's back to her normal antics. Somehow she has managed to trick you for nearly a decade.

He let out one long breath and closed his eyes. "Can we please stop talking about this? It just seems like an endless circle."

"Well, what _do_ you want to talk about then? Hm?" I said coldly. "How nice the weather is? How _absolutely lovely_ the service was yesterday? After all, you did come for a sympathy visit." I rolled my eyes.

"Diana…" he cautioned.

"What?" I threw my hands in the air.

"I would just like to… to start over; to pretend that none of this has happened. I want to go back to how things _used_ to be – just you, me, and that bed in the greenhouse. Before Penelope and everything."

I closed my eyes and breathed slowly. I was both trying to keep myself from crying and keep from getting sick as my stomach rolled at Penelope's name.

When the acid in my throat retreated, I said, "I wish it were that easy. But it's too late for any of that now."

He took my hand again, though more slowly and cautiously. With a deep sincerity in his eyes, which nearly melted my heart, he said, "It doesn't have to be. We can try, you and I. I didn't know you still loved me. Diana, my love for you has only grown these last several years. Now that I know, I'm willing to do it all again. I will leave Penelope once and for all. I will marry you. You're the only one I have ever wanted. I've dreamed every day of having you back and now it has become a reality. We've waited long enough."

The tears I had held back before were streaking down my cheeks and falling softly on my blanket. I knew what his next words were going to be – words I had waited a whole agonizing year to hear but then turned my back when he uttered them. I silenced them before he could say them by taking the hand he held and placing it gently on his cheek.

"Henry, don't," I whispered, offering a sad, crooked smile. "Don't ask me."

"I'll leave with you this time. I'll hand down my business and we will leave. Together," he said, with the last word emphasized and hanging in the air like a promise that could never be.

My hand fell from his face. "Even if we left," I said, my heart galloping at the phrase, "there's no way you would be able to divorce Penelope that quickly. That is, _if_ she allows you to divorce her. How do you know she won't throw another fit or try and kill herself again?"

He nodded. "That's something I'll have to learn to live with. I've tried countless times to take her to a doctor to seek help but she won't listen. I've done everything I possibly can."

My lips trembled and I had to look away. "We can't."

"We _can_ ," he said quietly but he sounded so strong and sure. "Forget the city. Let's leave and never come back. We can travel the world as vagabonds like all those books you used to read. We _can_ do this. I don't need money or fancy clothes." This time, it was his hand on my face, bringing me to meet his eyes. "I only need you." With his thumb, he wiped away a tear on my cheek. I closed my eyes, memorizing the touch on me. I wanted to remember his warm, soft hands.

It was the smoothness of his palm that brought me back to my harsh reality. They were hands that had never seen a day of hard labor. They did not cook or clean. It took me years to get used to living a life without luxury, and that was when I had thought I had grown up quite independently. Henry was different. He didn't know how life was – _truly_ was – outside of money. Even when he joined the army to get away from it, his father had managed to keep him quite comfortable and quite far away from any actual war.

I took his hand off my cheek and examined it. There were no scratches or scars or calluses; only clean, manicured hands. I looked up at him and saw the hair that was so ruffled and disheveled yesterday was back to its usual pomaded style. His eyes were searching for an answer in mine.

"I'm sorry," I said at last. "It just can't be."

"But why?" he pleaded. "And don't you dare mention Penelope again. You are my one true escape from the prison that has become my life."

I clenched my jaw, wanting to leap out of bed and out of that city once and for all rather than genuinely tell him the answer. He was right – Penelope wasn't the only thing holding me back from the life he had described.

He saw the inner torture running through my mind and added, "What is it Di?" A sudden look of horror crossed his face and I thought he had realized it, as if it were etched into my skin and bared free to him. "Is there someone else? Are you married?"

I let out a small sigh of relief. "No – I am neither married nor with anyone."

"Then what is it? Do you truly not want to be with me?"

I furrowed my brows. "Just believe me – I am not the kind of woman you would want to be with, Henry."

"You're the _only_ woman I want to be with. You are my true bride, then, now, and forever."

I let my eyes close, again wanting to memorize the moment in my mind. As they closed more tears escaped my eyes. I could never tell him the truth of my life and what had become of it since I saw him last; what shambles it had fallen to. I only knew that I was no longer a woman eligible to be his.

"Please," I tried to say but it cracked and came out only as a whisper, "just trust me."

As if an angel were watching over me then, someone knocked on the door. My instinct was to tell Henry to hide or kick him out the window like all those years ago when he drunkenly came to my room for the first time, but then I remembered Aunt Edith was the one who told me to come up in the first place.

"Come in," I said, voice stronger now. I sniffled and wiped under my eyes, attempting to make myself semi-presentable.

Ethel's head popped in and a look of small shock crossed her face as if she had expected us to be in a more compromising position.

"I'm sorry, Miss Diana," she said, still only standing in the doorway, "but the doctor is here. I told him to wait downstairs while I made sure you were … awake." She eyed Henry wearily. It was her way of telling him to leave before the doctor got the wrong idea.

"You should go," I said, turning to Henry now.

He nodded gravely and kissed my knuckles so lightly that his lips barely grazed them.

"I will return at another time. We must finish this conversation."

I bit the inside of my cheek before looking again at Ethel. "Please show Mr. Schoonmaker down the servant's stairs, Ethel. I'm sure we don't want to give the doctor a fright at seeing a strange man in my bedroom. You can show the doctor in after you've done so."

She nodded and Henry stood up. He put the chair back at my vanity where it had originally come. With one final, quick glance n my direction, both Ethel and Henry were gone.

The build up of stress hit me in one tidal wave then and my head was pounding. I closed my eyes to keep the world from spinning but it was useless. Even without moving, my body felt as if it were spinning in endless circles. The doctor walked into the room to the sight of me vomiting into a small pot Ethel must have brought in sometime beside my bed.


	13. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

 **In the event of a death, it is imperative that you follow proper mourning protocol as respect to the dead. In the event of the loss of an immediate family member, such as a parent, it is expected that the immediate family wear solid black. No jewelry or hint of color should be visible. For six weeks he or she should be secluded from society and not attend any parties or balls in order to collect himself or herself without causing a scene of deep grief in such a public forum. The first three months are of deep mourning and shall consist of only solid black wear – black broadcloth suits for men and crepe dresses for ladies. After three months, the mourner may begin half-mourning and start to incorporate dull tones, signaling their slow return to society.**

 **-** Mary Smith, "Death and Mourning Etiquette," 1907

* * *

The doctor diagnosed me with the flu – _not_ Mother's illness, thankfully. I spent the duration of that day in and out of sleep with Ethel bringing me cool rags, ice water, and buttered toast. The medicine the doctor prescribed me tasted like the acidic liquid I threw up when nothing was left in my stomach.

Henry visited me again the next day, despite my protestations. I told him I would visit him when I was well again but he waved his hand as if swatting a fly. We talked about everything except Penelope and the reason why he and I could not be together. We repeated this process for three days and each day he would try and prod it out of me. Each time I would find a way out of it. We didn't talk about anything in particular. He updated me on everyone's lives since I had left. Amos and Agnes Vreewold had gotten married three years ago but waited three years to have their first child – no one was sure why but many suspected the marriage was actually arranged by Amos's parents and they had waited those three years to actually consummate their marriage.

Henry told me of his younger sister, Prudie, who hadn't changed much. Her skin was still a translucent white from rarely leaving her room and kept to herself most of the time. The few times she has been out, he told, she updated her normally dark wardrobe to lighter, more acceptable tones. If she put in the effort, she really could be quite beautiful. She and Alice, Teddy's sister whom Henry once kissed, had become quite close at one party and have been seen together on multiple occasions since. The rest of Teddy's sisters – he was the only son – had all gone off and been married by now.

It was so strange to hear all these names again. Most of the time, I forgot most even existed. I hadn't thought of them in so long.

It was on the Saturday when I first began to feel slightly better and ate my first full meal, that the dresses Elizabeth had ordered the day Mother died were delivered.

"Oh, these are _beautiful_ , Miss," Ethel exclaimed, holding them up in the afternoon light to examine each one.

"Too bad I won't be able to wear them for some time," I sighed. I still had weeks before I could even be out in public, as per mourning etiquette. I would be back in Europe by then anyways. Then it was another few months before I could wear anything other than black crepe. "Don't bother hanging them, Ethel. They'll need to be packed anyways."

"Packed?" she asked innocently. "Where are you going?"

"I'm afraid I can't stay here. I have a ticket for the fourteenth back to London."

"You're leaving?" She sounded quite sad to hear it. "But… what about Mr. Schoonmaker?" Her eyes widened. "Will he be going with you? Oh, that's so _romantic_!"

"No, no," I said, looking out the window myself and wanting nothing more than to be outside. "Henry won't be coming with me, even though he's said he would. He's built an empire here in New York. I can't be the one to take him away from all that."

Ethel sat on the bed, clutching a white and pale sky blue seersucker dress. "Perhaps he can build a new empire – in Europe, with you."

We both smiled at the thought. For a woman in her mid thirties, Ethel daydreamed like a young girl. I wanted to protect her dreams so I quickly changed the subject.

"Will the lawyer be coming tomorrow?" I asked.

Ethel stood and continued plucking out the new dresses. "No. Tomorrow is Sunday so he will be by on Monday."

The lawyer would be reading mother's last will and testament for the family. I didn't expect Mother to leave me with anything. Monday would also serve as the first time I had seen the family since my outburst at the funeral. I knew I would apologize on Monday then. I felt foolish now, after speaking with Henry and letting the days pass. Not even Aunt Edith, who lived just a few steps away, had seen me. I knew they were giving me space, and that's exactly what I had needed. I was so used to living far away from my family that, I guess, being so close to them again had gotten overwhelming. Instead of telling them calmly that I needed the space to think it all out, I blew up at them. It was childish and wrong, and needed to be made right again.

After eating a full supper, I slept soundly for the first time in days. When Sunday morning came, I told a surprised Ethel to tell Aunt Edith that I would be joining her at church. Finally feeling well enough, I got up from bed and wrapped my robe around myself before going downstairs to breakfast.

Aunt Edith's eyes bulged at the sight of me entering the kitchen.

"Diana!" she exclaimed. "It's so good to see you up. Are you feeling better? You sure do look it."

I took the seat beside her. "Much, thank you."

"Ethel says you want to join me at church? I think that's a wonderful idea."

"I figure as my last Sunday in the city, I may as well," I said calmly.

Aunt Edith's face fell slightly. "I'd almost forgotten you were leaving so soon."

I wanted to tell her it didn't _feel_ soon. It already felt as though I had been back for seventeen years again.

"Elizabeth will be delighted to see you well again, too," Aunt Edith said, sipping the porridge topped with chopped strawberries and bananas that Ethel placed in front of her. "She's wanted to visit so many times but… well, you know, those kids can be quite a handful," she said, a bit sadly.

"Elizabeth will be there, too?" I asked. Ethel placed a bowl in front of me as well.

"Well, of course," she answered. "She goes every Sunday, you know. It's really the only time I get to see those two children of hers."

I swallowed the porridge, my heart beating slightly faster. I had planned on apologizing to both before the lawyer's visit on Monday – perhaps Aunt Edith sometime this Sunday since I was closer to her, both emotionally and physically – but if I saw Elizabeth before Monday, then it should be done sooner. I knew I needed to be done, but confrontation or its after-effects were never my strong suit.

"Have you thought any more about my proposal?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"Which proposal, dear?"

I set my spoon down. "To come with me next week. Back to Europe."

"Oh," she said with a light, polite laugh. "I don't think I can. But thank you for your kind offer."

"You would love it! I've got this small apartment above the place I work. It'll be small but–"

"Diana," she said sternly, "I trust you'll accept my answer as final. I have lived the live you wish for me to have again but it was not the life I wanted to live. My former husband lived enough of that for the both of us, and my entire lifetime. I just wish to live a quiet life. Right here."

Shamed, I looked down at my food and stirred it mindlessly. She rarely ever spoke of her brief life married to a titled Spaniard, and to hear her say anything about him was quiet shocking. If she was bringing him up, then I must have really touched a nerve.

"Okay," I said quietly. "I'm sorry for bothering you so much."

"Oh, hush," Aunt Edith said, softly patting my hand. "I only meant that… Europe has no great memories for me like it does for you, young dear."

 _I wouldn't be so sure about that,_ I thought to myself but knew I could never say so out loud without her asking questions. I was getting enough of that from Henry.

At the quick thought of him, Aunt Edith asked, as if reading my mind, "Will the Mr. Schoonmaker be stopping by for visiting hour today, after church?"

I took a strawberry on my spoon and ate it. I took my time squeezing the juices out with my tongue and swallowing it before answering.

"I think he might. Which is good because I should really tell him that he does not need to visit any longer. People might get the wrong idea."

"Have I taught you nothing, Diana?" She turned to me fully now. She sounded completely wounded.

In surprise at her town, I dropped my spoon into the bowl where it clanked against the ceramic side.

"What?" I asked.

"The papers don't matter. What people think does not matter. Do you think it was easy to return here after getting divorced so young? Oh, my name was _everywhere_ for weeks. I stayed indoors without ever stepping foot out of this house for months. I couldn't even receive. Even after my name was out of the papers and reader's eyes were glued to some other disaster happening to someone else, I could hear people whispering about me at parties or charity galas or even just walking out in the street. I had to learn one very tough piece of advice, which came from my brother, your father: No one is going to give tough skin _to_ you – you need to go out in the world and build it for yourself. So I did. I stopped holding my head low and began to straighten up again. I held peoples' gazes when I heard them snicker in my direction. People are often frightened of a woman who can hold her own, for whatever reason. Once they realize you are not afraid, they see that all the stones they held in their hands to throw at you have turned to sand."

As beautiful as her soliloquy seemed, I had a difficult time trying to relate it to my own story. While it is true that divorces, especially ones followed by such a brief marriage, were indeed scandalous, breaking up a marriage that one should have no part in was something else entirely.

Back upstairs, Ethel once again helped me into my black mourning dress. I wasn't sure if it was out of mindlessness or caring for me, but she left the corset only slightly looser than it needed to be. Whichever reason, I was thankful. I still felt weak from my days spent in bed. I would always be slightly upset with myself for wasting such a large portion of my time back in New York being sick in bed but there was nothing I could do for it anymore.

As Ethel was finishing placing my hat on my head, Aunt Edith walked in holding something small in her hands.

"I figure since we are going to church, you might like this. I've been holding onto it for you in the hopes you would come back."

She extended her hand out to me and, with my hands already gloved in black lace, I took the item from her. I knew it immediately – it was the lapis-encrusted cross Henry had given to me out first time in his greenhouse; the night I truly knew he was my forever.

I turned over the gold and blue cross to look at the back, where my fingers traced the memorable words, " _For my True Bride_." It had originally belonged to his mother who had gotten it from his father as a gift. After his mother died, Henry had taken it and, years later, given it to me.

"Oh, I don't–" I began to say in protest.

"Stones to sand," Aunt Edith repeated. "Let this be your first act of you straightening up. No one will know but you that you are wearing it, but sometimes that's all that matters."

After a moment of reluctance, I gave the necklace to Ethel who put it around my neck. I tucked the cool metal into my dress, hidden away from everyone but me.

Thomas, our coachman, drove us to the church where only a few days prior, I had buried Mother. I told Aunt Edith that I would visit Mother after the service before we headed back to Gramercy. I figured I would take Elizabeth with me and apologize there.

It occurred to me then that I had not properly apologized to Aunt Edith yet. I turned to her and clasped her hand in mine.

"Aunt Edith," I started, "I wanted to say how very sorry I am for the way I acted at Mother's funeral and the days that followed. It was immature and childish of me to lash out the way I did."

She gave me a warm smile and gripped my hand tighter. "Oh, my child. There is nothing to apologize for. It is forgotten."

I didn't feel like it was fair to let me off as easily as she did, but I didn't protest it.

Once at the church, people were congregating around the entrance and greeting one another. Some rather lavish party must have happened the night before because the crowd seemed to be smaller than I remember and those who did show up looked only half awake and aware.

Through the crowd, I could see Elizabeth with her arm delicately slung through Teddy's. She was smiling watching Delores chase Evie, trying to put a hat on that I could only guess she, in a fuss, tore off. Evie's giggling would be heard even through to our carriage.

"Oh," Aunt Edith sighed happily beside me, looking out and seeing the young children. She didn't even wait for Thomas to help her out before exiting the carriage and enveloping first Evie and then Keller in her arms.

Elizabeth's eyes, I could feel, were on me as I slowly exited after Aunt Edith. I bit the inside of my cheek and clutched my hands together while looking at Aunt Edith smother the kids with kisses. I was trying to look anywhere but at Elizabeth.

"Diana!" I heard a familiar voice call. I quickly turned to see a gleaming-eyed Lina racing toward me. Grayson Hayes trailed behind her.

"Lina," I said, smiling and embracing her as she galloped up to me, "I didn't expect to see you here."

She took a step back after the hug and looked me up and down. I could see Grayson beside her doing just the same. My cheeks went hot as I tried, and failed, to forget our one fling.

"Elizabeth told me you fell ill after your mother's funeral, you poor thing. Are you much better now?"

"A great deal, thank you. It was just a quick bug – nothing for anyone to worry over," I replied. I could still feel Grayson's eyes on me so I looked at him as if to beg him to stop.

"Oh! Where are my manners? Diana, you remember Grayson Hayes, Penelope's brother?"

It was only out of courtesy that I extended my gloved hand for him to lightly brush his lips against my knuckles. I could only thank God that we were both wearing gloves, or else he would feel how clammy my palm was just then.

"Oh, of course," I answered and took my hand back perhaps a moment too soon. "He was sat next to you at the funeral as well, was he not?"

Lina's face went flushed red and saw her lips tighten, trying desperately to hide her girlish smile.

"Yes, well…" her voice trailed off and she glanced to Grace Church where many were beginning to file in. "Shall we?"

I glanced to see where my family had gone and saw them just ascending the church steps.

"If you don't mind, I think I ought to sit with Elizabeth and Aunt Edith," I said, beginning to turn away.

"Of course! Go, go – we can talk more later, girl-to-girl." She winked before turning to talk quickly to someone who had called her name.

Just as I began to walk up the steps, I felt someone lightly grab my elbow. I turned my head only slightly to see who it was and my eyes widened in shock at seeing Grayson looking up at me from a step below.

With a look of urgency in his eyes, he said in a low voice, "I really must speak with you."

I pulled my arm away from his grasp, worried someone would see. "You really shouldn't." My voice was only just above a whisper.

"It's not what you think. Or at least I don't think it is. Can I see you during visiting hours, after church?"

I looked over his head where Lina was talking animatedly with someone, completely oblivious to Grayson and me.

I sighed. "Fine," I said quickly, really just to let him let me go. I spun around then and filed into the church with everyone else. Elizabeth's curls and Aunt Edith's white pompadour were easy enough to spot – we were also the only people in the entire service wearing solid black. I sat beside Elizabeth and leaned over to her just as the service was beginning and everyone went quiet.

"Visit Mother with me after this, will you?" I said.

She turned her head to me and gave me an appreciative smile, probably over the fact that this was the first thing I had said to her in days. Since it was already too quiet in the church to verbally respond without it echoing to everyone's ears, she gave me a slow nod.

I barely listened to the service. It had been so long since I attended – perhaps since I was last in New York. Reverend Needlehouse was preaching something about forgiving your neighbors – how appropriate. I looked around me as casually as possible and saw most people with their heads bowed in what appeared to be prayer but what may as well have been sleep. I swore I even heard Aunt Edith give a little snore or two.

With an echoing, "Amen," people once again stood and began their everyday chatter and discussing whom they will be visiting with shortly. I looked at Elizabeth next to me and she nodded again to tell me silently that she would meet me at Mother's grave.

I tried to make my way through the throng as quickly as possible but everyone seemed to want to talk to me and ask about my travels. I gave the generic answer – it was all lovely and good and I would see them sometime later to talk more. The last part was a lie, of course, but it was said only out of courtesy. I could only hope they wouldn't take it too seriously as to call on us during visiting hours that day. I still didn't think I had the strength to pretend my life was as wonderful as I had made it seem to everyone.

Eventually, though, I was able to make it to Mother's grave. Her name was still plainly marked while it waited for her official headstone. The dirt was still freshly dug like the funeral was only yesterday. It still _felt_ like yesterday.

Next to her name was Father's headstone, where his name greeted my eyes in large cursive lettering. I remembered, for the longest time, I had always wished that it had been Mother who went first instead of Father. I realized now how childish that was of me. No matter the order, it all hurt. It was only Elizabeth and I now. We were all that was left of that once-great family.

"You wanted to talk?" Elizabeth said, stepping up beside me. Her hands were folded demurely in front of her. We both had to squint our eyes in the early afternoon light despite our black hats.

"Yes," I said slowly. "I already spoke to Aunt Edith. I wanted to apologize for the way I acted at Mother's funeral. It was childish and wrong, I realize that now. I was caught off-guard, is all. It was a completely inappropriate time and venue to lash out at anyone, you especially. You were already hurting and I only caused more pain. I am so terribly sorry for that Lizzie."

She listened intently and never once tried to interrupt me as I spoke. The right side of her lips eventually raised into a small, crooked smile. I wondered for a moment if she was going to start laughing at me.

"Oh, Diana," she sighed. She looked down and pulled my twisted hands apart. She clasped them tightly. "You've grown so much since I last saw you. You are nearly a whole new person. Though nearly at the same time, you've remained the sweet, little girl I've always known. A part of me forgot that sweet part of you and that is why I didn't tell you about Henry and Penelope."

"I know and I'm sorry I kept swatting everyone down at just the mention of his name."

Elizabeth shook her head. "I should have known how much it would affect you when you saw him at the funeral and told you before, regardless. We were once so close, you and I. I used to know what you were thinking just by looking in your eyes – though you never would shy away from how you were truly feeling. It really would have saved us so much trouble if I had told you from the start, especially when you told me on your first night here that you were still in love with him."

I looked at our connected hands with a large, unhide-able grin on my face. Now that the trouble between us was gone, I could tell her what Henry had said when he visited.

"Lizzie… I know it's improper and you'll hate it but Henry visited me while I was ill," I said, low enough so only she could hear just in case anyone still lingered after the service.

Elizabeth's brows furrowed. "Improper?"

"Well, I was quite bedridden."

Her eyes widened in shock. "Di!" she said, scandalized. "How?"

"It was Aunt Edith!" I replied, just as shocked as she. "She told him to go up and visit me. But I'm glad she did. Liz… he told me he still fiercely loves me."

I saw her eyes brimming with moisture, as did mine. "Oh, I'm so happy for you, Di."

"He's offered again to divorce Penelope and come away with me to London."

Her smile faltered for a brief moment. She probably thought I didn't see it, but I did. "Well, that's so very… quick."

My eyes lowered. I should have known this would be her reaction. Elizabeth was always proper and did everything by the book. That is, until she faked her own death to run away with our old coachman, Will.

"I don't agree," I replied. "In fact, I think seven years is quite slow if you ask me."

We were each silent for a long minute. Elizabeth was looking me over, as if inspecting something. She sighed. "Come with me."

With our hands still clasped together, she led me further into the cemetery where the gravestones got smialler and smaller and less opulent. Even the grass became less green and more of a brown-yellow color that reminded me of desert grass. Eventually we stopped and I wondered if Elizabeth was about to share some secret too large that she had to make sure no living person would hear it. We were utterly alone back there and I shivered involuntarily at the eeriness of being surrounded by nothing but decaying bodies below us.

"I try to come here every day but it's become more difficult with the children being so restless lately. Some day soon I hope to bring Keller here to teach him the truth about everything. He's far too young to understand the weight of it all yet. He thinks his father is Teddy – I'm afraid to ruin that for him."

I was going to ask her what she was going on about until I followed her eyes to the ground where a small stone was laid with the words, "Will Keller" etched messily and underneath the name was etched similarly, "1879-1899."

"I've never seen it before," I said softly as if he was asleep and speaking too loud would wake him.

"He never had a funeral – a proper one, at least. I couldn't even see him buried because of the stories they told in the papers. I'm still ashamed that I went along with them. The world will never know how sweet of a person he really was – they only believe he's a monster who was obsessed with me and kidnapped me."

I took my hand out of hers and wrapped it instead around her thin waist.

"You had no choice, Lizzie. They would have destroyed you otherwise."

She looked at me then with an expression that ripped me in half. I hadn't seen so much pain in her face for a long, long time.

"They already did," she said. Then she turned to me and looked at me intensely. Whatever she was about to say next, she wanted me to listen carefully to every word. "Diana, I was wrong about what I said a moment ago. It isn't too fast for you and Henry. This city destroyed Will's life, and mine. If it wasn't for Teddy, I would have gone back out West the second I could. But you and Henry… the both of you have a _chance_ to be happy – together, away from here. And all I've ever wanted is for you to be happy."

Something inside me filled like a balloon and I wondered for a brief moment if I would float away with the cool summer wind that blew just then. I didn't know it could be possible to feel this happy again. Elizabeth had given her blessing and all felt right. Of course, I would have to figure out just how Henry and I were going to do it all, but for the first time in what felt like forever, I had hope.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

 **Meet me tonight at the greenhouse, 9 PM. I'll have news for you.**

 **-** HS

* * *

Edith was waiting patiently with Thomas back at our carriage. Everyone else from the service had long since retired back home to begin visiting hours.

"Is everything alright?" Aunt Edith asked once I joined her again.

I couldn't keep the wide grin off my face. I could have been struck down by God and dragged by demons to Hell. I would have been perfectly content. I don't even fully know what it was that changed. I still couldn't tell Henry the truth about what had happened to me in Europe, but maybe that didn't matter. if he didn't know, then perhaps I could pretend it didn't happen and try to move on with my life. Maybe, in the back of my mind, I only needed Elizabeth's blessing.

"Everything is perfect," I replied, taking Thomas's hand as he helped me into the carriage.

Aunt Edith's eyes were burning a hole on the side of me the whole ride back to 17 Gramercy. I didn't mind – I was finally fully happy. After all these years, Henry's love never wavered. And now that I knew that with a certainty, we could finally live the life we were always meant to live. As man and wife. Out of New York.

I had completely forgotten about Grayson Hayes at the church until the carriage pulled up to Gramercy and I saw him entering just ahead of us.

"Mr. Hayes, it's so good to see you," Aunt Edith said, carefully stepping out of the carriage with the help of Thomas. Despite her wittiness, I had to remind myself that she was still quite old.

Ethel was holding the door open and Grayson spun around. He was halfway inside when Aunt Edith had stopped him. The sight of him made my blood boil – half in embarrassment, half in annoyance. I dreaded that this visit was going to be him confessing his love for me. Penelope had decided it would be fun to have Grayson flirt with me on the trip to Florida, but she hadn't counted on the fact that he indeed did fall in love with me. Of course, I didn't love him at all but he and I had sex and Henry saw us, which eventually drove Henry to enlist in the army.

I got out of the carriage after Aunt Edith and tried to glare at Grayson so fiercely that he would go away. But that didn't happen.

Grayson plastered on a large smile. "Miss Holland," he said, dipping his head. Then he turned to look at me and said, "Miss Diana. I was wondering, if you're feeling better, if you would like to join me for a walk in the park. It is a beautiful day."

"It _is_ beautiful, isn't it?" Aunt Edith mused. "I'm sure Diana would enjoy a nice walk. She's been cooped up in her room for so long. I'm sure some fresh air will do her good."

I clenched my jaw to prevent myself from lashing out and causing a scene on the street. I had no choice now, thanks to Aunt Edith, but to go on this terrible walk that I'm sure would feel entirely too long.

"I would love to," I said tensely.

Grayson bounded down the brown stone steps to me where he took my hand and slung it into the crook of his arm. I held my arm tensely so it barely touched him. He began guiding me away from my home and toward Gramercy Park.

It was much, much smaller than Central Park but Mother maintained that Gramercy was far superior because only those with homes in Gramercy were allowed inside, whereas Central Park was open to the public. Grayson led me into this small park where women were slowly strolling with little carriages holding their infants and men walked along side them. I let my mind wander, imagining Henry and I walking through Hyde Park in London, joined by our own children.

"I didn't want you to get the wrong idea," Grayson eventually said.

"Wrong idea about what, exactly?"

"Lina and I."

"Whatever you are going to that poor girl needs to end now, Grayson. It's just cruel that you still do this to girls. One day, I hope, you'll mature enough to realize this." I kept my eyes facing forward and didn't once look at him.

"That's just what I mean," he said, stopping entirely. I had no choice but to stop beside him. "Diana – Miss Diana – I am… very fond of Miss Broud. I've gotten to know here quite well and…" He stepped in front of my gaze, releasing my arm, so I was forced to look at him. "I love her."

I was silent, staring at him for a moment, and then I laughed. "Oh? You love her?" I laughed again.

His brows furrowed. "I do. I love her. I'm sorry, but what is so funny? Are you having a fit?"

I sighed, catching my breath. "Grayson, you fall in love every other week."

He set his jaw. "She's different. We met at her Independence Day party last year and I can't get enough of her. I want to spend every minute with her and long for her when I have to leave her. We spend nearly every day together – so yes, I do love her. And I'm going to ask her to marry me." He let out a deep breath. "Wow, that's the first time I've said that out loud. I'm going to ask her to marry me. Well, with your blessing, of course."

" _My_ blessing?" I gasped, taking a step back. "Why mine?"

"Well, she doesn't have a father to ask. I know she looks up to you a lot, so I figured you would be the closest person to ask."

"My answer is no then," I said quickly.

"No?"

"You were in love with me, remember? Remember how quickly _that_ came and went? Or the countless other women before and after me? You only think it's love when in reality, it's just infatuation."

He shook his head aggressively. "No, it's different this time. I feel like I can't _breathe_ when I'm around her. She's my entire world. Haven't you ever felt like that?"

I pursed my lips, wondering if he truly did love her. It was no doubt in my mind that he was capable of falling in love, but instead, I doubted if he could _remain_ in love.

"How long have you felt this way?" I asked, more as a test.

"She and I have been seeing each other every day since her party, but I realized I loved her – truly, deeply loved her – last October. I was going to write you this summer to ask your permission to marry her but I couldn't find an address for you. Then I saw you at the funeral and thought it must be fate."

"And you believe you really love her?" I asked, still slightly skeptical.

"With everything I've got," he said nodding. The intensity in his eyes never wavered. He really did love her, I realized, more than he ever even loved me.

"So what's your plan then?"

"Plan?"

I nodded. "Your plan to propose. I assume you have a plan?"

"Oh!" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. Anyone who saw would immediately know that an engagement ring was enclosed inside.

He opened the box and turned it to me to see. I couldn't help but gasp at the beauty of it. A large, emerald stone saw inside, cut pristinely into and oval. Circling the bright green stone were tiny little diamonds, with the same size diamonds running the length of the band.

"It's beautiful," I breathed. A piece like this must have cost at _least_ a thousand dollars. It was dazzling in the light.

"I picked out the stone and had it custom made. The emerald almost exactly matches her eyes. That was the first thing I fell in love with – her eyes. She's the most real person I've ever met. She's not afraid to call me out when I'm acting immature. Her eyes exude truth and beauty."

I knew Lina's eyes well and knew exactly what he was talking about. I was always secretly jealous of the brightness of Lina's eyes since mine were a dull brown.

I closed the box he was holding out, as a way to remind myself that I could not run away with it, though I was tempted. I hadn't seen anything so beautiful in so long.

"It's beautiful," I repeated, still slightly breathless from the beauty of the ring. I had a similar ring waiting for me, assuming Henry still had it. Although mine was sapphire instead of emerald, and the surrounding diamonds on mine were slightly larger. "She's going to love it."

Grayson's face lit up. "Does this mean I have your permission?"

His smile was contagious so I said through my grin, "Yes. You better treat her well, Grayson, or there'll be hell to pay."

"I wouldn't doubt it, not from you," he said laughing a deep, throaty laugh a few times.

He walked me back to Gramercy but said he couldn't stay.

"You'll tell me when you've asked her?" I said in the doorway.

"Oh," he said with a laugh, "I'm sure it'll be out in the papers sooner than I could un here – she'd have it no other way."

I walked back into the house after he kissed my cheek goodbye and was greeted by Ethel who was ready to receive my hat.

"Mr. Schoonmaker is in the parlor," she informed me with rosy cheeks. "Who was that just leaving?"

"Grayson Hayes," Henry said, stepping into the room. He answered before I could. His voice was filled with ice despite the heat coming in from the open door.

Ethel quickly shuffled out of the room, sending some sort of fight. I sighed, not really feeling like arguing.

"Henry, we were just talking."

"I saw you two 'talking.' He pulled out a _ring_ , Diana. And I saw your reaction."

I widened my eyes, sensing where he was going. "Oh! Henry! No, that's not it at all."

"Did he propose to you? God, the gall that man has. One moment he's with Miss Broud and then the next… he sees you and _proposes_! You turned him down, I assume? There's no ring on your finger. I can't blame the man though."

I couldn't help but let out a small giggle. "As flattered as I am that you think a man would propose to me that quickly – no, Grayson did not propose. Not to me, at least. He plans to ask _Lina_ to marry him. He was simply asking for my permission, which I gave."

Henry's face softened. "Oh."

"Besides," I said, "that's not whose ring I want on my finger." I smiled up at him.

A sly smile spread across his lips. "Oh?"

"I think a fall wedding in Paris would be lovely," I said, barely finishing my sentence before he was scooping me up into his arms and spinning me around. We were each giggling loudly like young children. When he did set me down, I added, "I think we've waited long enough."

With one hand on my lower back and the other cupping my cheek, he kissed me. Long and deep and more full of love than I had ever felt. I could have lived in that moment of ecstasy forever. I forgot about Penelope and Mother and everything that happened in Europe. All there was in my world now was Henry and me. Nothing else existed.

"I'll visit my attorney first thing in the morning," he said once we separated. Our faces still lingered scandalously close. He traced his thumb over my plump lower lip, which was now swollen from the kiss.

I nodded, unable to speak. I only knew that I could not be happier than I was in that moment.

Henry was finally, finally my fiancé.

* * *

Lina visited shortly after Henry left and I had to act completely oblivious when she told me about her party last year and how she and Grayson reconnected and were inseparable ever since. They way she gushed over him already told me how she would answer his proposal.

The rest of the day was spent helping to clean the house in preparation for the lawyer's visit the next day. I didn't say anything to Aunt Edith or anyone about my engagement to Henry. I wanted to wait until I knew without a doubt that we could pull this off – him divorcing Penelope and the both of us leaving for Europe. Plus the little girl in me desperately wanted the ring I hadn't seen in seven years back on my finger before I told anyone.

So when Elizabeth commented on my glow that night, I had no choice but to say, "It must just be the beautiful weather we've been having. It was true – there hadn't been a drop of rain since Mother's funeral and the summer heat had broken after the storm, giving us relatively cool days. Everything was perfect.

We all sat in the parlor – Aunt Edith, Elizabeth, and me – eating small sandwiches the next day in the early afternoon while we waited for the lawyer to arrive. When Ethel stepped in the room, we each began to stand, believing the lawyer had arrived. Instead, she handed me a letter from Henry. I smiled at the message and slipped it into the pocket of my dress.

"What is it?" Aunt Edith asked me one I sat down again.

"Oh, nothing," I said, through my flushed smile.

I glanced to Elizabeth and she smiled at me, clearly knowing what it was. Before Aunt Edith could ask anything else, Elizabeth asked about the flowers that were freshly planted out front. I droned out the response and instead sank deeper into my chair in glee, anticipating the night.

When Ethel next came into the room, it was to announce the lawyer, Hammond Werther. He was dressed in a sharp gray suite and navy blue tie. Immediately upon entering, he took off his hat and bowed his head.

"Good afternoon, ladies," he greeted us. We all stood and he extended a kiss to Aunt Edith's knuckles.

Ethel took his hat shortly after and asked, "Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea?"

Mr. Werther nodded. "A water would be wonderful, thank you."

As Ethel left to the kitchen, Elizabeth came forward to Mr. Werther.

"Mr. Werther," she said in her most gracious, honey-smooth voice, "I want to thank you for coming out on such short notice. You're doing our family a great service."

"Oh, it's nothing," he said nonchalantly. Then he turned to me. "As I understand it, Miss Diana Holland is to leave again shortly. Besides, your father and mother were great friends of mine for many years. I'm so sorry Louisa has passed, but I have faith she's commanding deep respect with our Lord in Heaven."

We all dipped our heads in agreement, but I mostly did so to hide the smile on my face. No doubt with a statement like that, he knew Mother well.

Elizabeth led us all to the adjoining library, where she felt the room was most suitable for this type of visit. Mr. Werther sat in Father's desk's chair and opened his briefcase, which enclosed a small folder.

I supposed I knew where this meeting would head. Elizabeth and Teddy would get the majority of the money and 17 Gramercy while Aunt Edith got the remainder of the money and the valuables. Mother probably didn't even think I would be here for her death and funeral, let alone for the hearing of her will. I already knew I would get nothing, so I looked out the window behind him and began daydreaming about my wedding to Henry.

"As you all well know, we are gathered to read the last will and testament of Mrs. Louisa Adora Holland, widow to Mr. Edward Holland of the esteemed Holland family line," began Mr. Werther, his voice like an echo in the back of my preoccupied mind. "Although the family's assets… declined… for a brief moment, you all found a way out of the darkness and for that I see you all as truly strong women."

"Thank you, Mr. Werther," murmured Aunt Edith.

"Let's get started, shall we?" he said, opening the folder to pull out several pages and an envelope. He lipped on his glasses and began to read the will.

Mother left Elizabeth and Teddy the property the oil foundry in San Pedro and seventy percent of its profits, and stated that she wished for the business to be handed down to Keller when Elizabeth and Teddy agreed he was at a suitable age. The residential property in San Pedro, which Elizabeth and Will lived in for a short time, was also left to them.

It felt like it went on and on, dividing up the assets of the Holland family's old matriarch. The majority of everything, of course, went to Elizabeth and Teddy, though I was shocked that Keller was mentioned only because I was never quite sure how Mother felt about Elizabeth running away to be with Will. Granted, she did request them to be married, therefore making Keller a true heir and not a bastard (which I thought was an archaic term).

Aunt Edith was given the other thirty percent of the profits from the oil foundry. Mother also meticulously listed all the jewelry bequeathed to Elizabeth and Aunt Edith.

I was daydreaming the color of the sash that would tie a ribbon around my wedding bouquet – I thought a light, blush pink would be beautiful tied around white roses – when I heard Mr. Werther mention my name for the first time since the meeting began.

"And to my second daughter, Diana," he was reading, nearing the last page of the will. I leaned in unconsciously, wondering what she could possibly want to give me, "I give the residence at 17 Gramercy, along with a hand-written letter."

My mouth went as dry as cotton. I think I may have stopped breathing. If anyone was speaking in the room, I didn't hear it. Something was put into my hand. I looked down and saw an envelope with my name written on the front in Mother's meticulous writing. Only this time, it wasn't as perfect as usual. It looked like her hand was shaking while she wrote it.

"Excuse me?" I finally said, looking up at Mr. Werther. I glanced to Elizabeth and Aunt Edith beside me. They were surprised as well, I could tell. But not as surprised as me it seemed.

"She wants you to have Gramercy," Aunt Edith said.

I shook my head. "No, no, that can't be right. It's supposed to go to Elizabeth! The head of the Holland family is supposed to live here. That's not me, that's Elizabeth!"

"Teddy and I have our own home already, Diana," Elizabeth leaned forward and said. "We don't _need_ Gramercy."

I knew then why they weren't as surprised. They already knew this was going to happen. Mother probably told them.

"Perhaps she wrote something in that letter," said Aunt Edith.

I looked at the envelope in my hands again. It felt so foreign in my hand. But a voice in my mind told me that Aunt Edith was right. Everything Mother did always served a purpose; there must have been a reason she gave me the house.

Mr. Werther cleared his throat. "There are a few, uh, stipulations that Mrs. Holland requires of you, Miss. She asks that you allow your father's sister to remain a resident for as long as she wishes to live here. She also asks that the home retains its original integrity – meaning she does not want any unnecessary alterations to the home."

I nodded along to everything he said. I could hear Mother's voice saying the words almost exactly. It was no doubt these were her wishes.

"Will that be all?" Aunt Edith asked.

"Yes, I believe so. Should any of you have any questions, please don't hesitate to contact my office."

We all stood, but I was still shaky on my legs. I gripped the edge of the desk to steady myself. Elizabeth and Aunt Edith walked the lawyer our of the library but I didn't follow. I looked at the envelope again in my hand.

So many times, I have been handed a letter with terrible, heart-wrenching news written inside. I was half afraid this would be the same thing. Though what the bad news could be, I didn't know. All I knew was that I was terrified of opening it.

But I knew if I didn't open it now, then I probably never would. So I sat in Father's chair and ripped open the sealed envelope.

Dear Diana,

If you are receiving this, it means I am no longer in this world. There are things I have wanted to say to you since you have left that I am afraid I will never get the chance to tell you in person, so that is why I write this letter.

I was diagnosed months ago with a terrible illness that I'm afraid has only worsened over time. It has been so terrible lately that I am unsure of how much longer I'll have left. So I wanted to say: I love you, dear daughter. Though we have had difficult times, I do truly love you. You remind me so much of your father sometimes; perhaps that is why I have been so tough on you. I miss him every day and seeing how rambunctious and stubborn you only make me miss him more.

I know you are far away and may not be able to attend a funeral. That is alright. I forgive you. I understand just how suffocating this city can be, so I comment you on your individuality. You are achieving things I could never dream of. I don't know if you'll ever return back to New York or Gramercy, but I'm leaving 17 Gramercy to you in my last will. For the longest time, it was stated to go to Elizabeth but she doesn't need it – she has a home of her own. But it occurred to me that if you did ever return, you wouldn't. At least, not a place you would feel was your own. So that is why I am giving 17 Gramercy to you. I don't want you to feel pressured into coming back just to move in unless you truly want to. It is merely there only if you ever find yourself coming back to New York, or even if you feel homesick. It is yours.

I am not so naïve that I don't know why you left New York to begin with. Like I said, I know firsthand just how suffocating this city can be. Just don't waste your life, Diana. You are mot free than any of us here. I know what cost that freedom came at. I only hope that it is worth that cost. Henry Schoonmaker – though I doubt I really need to say his last name – still asks of you. I know he loves you, perhaps even more fiercely than your father loved me. And, if I know you at all, I know you still love him. Though I thought I could never fully accept the love between you two, given the circumstances, I now know that a love like that is meant to be cherished. God created this love, and I will just have to believe it is for a purpose. Find a way back to him and I know you will not regret it. There will be immense obstacles but, again, if I know you at all, I know you thrive when an obstacle is placed in front of you. Do not stray the course – never forget what your end goal is. Don't let her beat you down. I know you can win. You _will_ win.

Until we meet again, my sweet daughter.

Your mother,

Louisa Holland

PS. The library is all yours now. Your father would have wanted it that way.

I let my hand holding the letter fall into my lap. Tears dripped off my chin and fell quietly onto my skirt and the letter, streaking a few of the words. I could hear her voice in my head as I read the letter.

She didn't want 17 Gramercy to force me back but instead made it a safe haven if I ever come back. And I did come back. I came home.

And now I knew she _also_ wanted Henry and me to rekindle, as did Elizabeth. I almost laughed out loud then. Life sure liked playing cruel jokes. If only it were this easy seven years ago before everything got fuddled up by Penelope and my own selfish fear.

I was left in that library for quite some time before anyone came in. It was Ethel who cleared her throat to announce her presence.

"Miss Diana, lunch is being served."

I swallowed the lump in my throat that had only grown bigger since reading that letter. I folded the envelope neatly into my pocket, beside Henry's note, and stood.

"Yes," I said, "I'll be right there."

I kept my back turned to her. I heard her footsteps retreat from the room and only then did I wipe my cheeks. I was now the head of this home, which therefore meant Ethel worked for me now. I had to appear strong to everyone, even if it was all a lie.

Once I had regained enough composure, I exited the library and turned toward the kitchen. Elizabeth and Aunt Edith were already sitting at the table sipping the soup they were each served.

Elizabeth looked at me with eyes that seemed to ask, "Are you alright?"

I gave a small nod and sat at the table. A bowl was placed in front of me and filled with the same soup.

"Teddy is only a call away if you need help with any finances, regarding the house," Elizabeth said.

I sighed. "Yes, thank you." We were all awkwardly silent for a long time while we ate our soup. "It's all just a bit much, don't you think?"

I saw Elizabeth shrug. "Well, I expect she explained herself in the letter, did she not?"

"Well, that and… more," I replied sheepishly. I could still feel the folded envelope, ironically beside Henry's note in my pocket.

"More?" asked Aunt Edith.

I could feel my face blush. Should I tell them now about Henry and me? I still wanted to wait for the ring to make it official. Then again, if he didn't have the ring anymore for whatever reason, we could always opt to buy one in Europe. Or perhaps elope on the spot. So really, there might not even be a true ring to show them.

"Well–" I began but was cut off my Ethel.

"Miss Diana, you have a visitor," she said.

I turned to her. "Can't it wait? We're having lunch."

"That's what I told her, but she says it is absolutely urgent."

I knew it wasn't Henry. Otherwise, Ethel would be blushing and flustered. But now that she said the visitor was female, it piqued my interest.

 _It must be Lina_ , I thought, getting up from my chair and away from my soup.

I knew Grayson would propose, but so soon? As I walked to the parlor, I practiced my surprise face for when she showed me the ring. I had to pretend I'd had no idea about the proposal.

But when I walked into the room, it was a whole other kind of a surprise when I saw who was sat on the chair in the corner.

"Oh, Diana," Penelope said, "it is _so_ nice to see you again."


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

 *****TRIGGER WARNING: RAPE*****

 **A girl should never be out of her home past sundown unless she is accompanied by a chaperone. It is in the dark that monsters and ghouls will come out to do their worst.**

 **-** Victoria Wainwright, "Cultivating Women of Substance"

* * *

"Penelope," I involuntarily gasped. "Ethel must have been confused. I'll get Elizabeth."

I only half turned before Penelope stood and said, "There's no need for that. I did, in fact, come here to see you."

I swallowed the rising bile and turned to face her again. Her gloved hands were folded demurely in front of her. She wore a nearly identical mourning dress as I did, with a high lace collar where her milky skin was just barely visible.

"Oh," I muttered. I sat on the nearest chair and Penelope sat back down as well. Her face was expressionless so I couldn't read whether she would laugh or attack me. "What can I do for you, Penelope?"

"Well," she began, "I've been meaning to visit you since I saw you at your mother's funeral. I'm so sorry for your loss, by the way. But I had no idea you were in New York, you see. I want to apologize – sincerely – for the way I acted all those years ago. We were children then, I feel like. I'm sure you know, but I suffered a terrible… accident. A trauma like that really changes a person. It made me see how terrible I was to everyone. I was able to make amends to those whom I hurt – that is, everyone, but you."

Her voice, I realized, had no remorse to it. Nor did her face. I remembered shortly after Elizabeth's fake death the wailing Penelope had done in this very parlor. It was quite some show. This, however, was a much less drama-filled visit. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Absolutely _no_ emotion was put into this. I wasn't sure what her reason for this visit was, but it certainly was _not_ to apologize.

I had been silent for too long. I realized Penelope was waiting for some type of response.

"I see," I sputtered out.

"Do you accept my apology?" she asked, leaning forward as if she were about to gobble up some juicy gossip.

"Penelope," I slowly began, my eyes, I could tell, were ablaze with the thrill of what I was finally going to be able to tell her, "you should know… well, Henry and I–"

"Yes," she said, looking down to her hands in her lap. "I know." I could swear I saw her smiling. "Henry told me yesterday."

Air was knocked out of me. No! This was not fair! _I_ wanted the satisfaction of telling her, and seeing the look on her face. For once, _I_ had won – not her.

"Well, as long as you're aware–" I began.

"You can't honestly believe he'd _actually_ leave me for you, do you? We'd both be ruined and – let's face it, we both know Henry so well – we both know he wouldn't leave me in the state I am. God, I can see the headlines now: 'Henry Schoonmaker leaves grieving wife for little Holland girl.'" She looked up now and there, unsurprisingly, was the deep spark of evil in her eyes.

"He doesn't care about all that," I told her. "We'll be gone before all that anyways."

She gave a deep laugh. "Not if I have anything to do with it. I will _never_ sign those papers. You'll never have him, little Diana."

She stood then, but I stayed seated, showing she had no power over me despite the fact that my blood was boiling under the surface. It took everything in me not to reach up and slap that perfect, flawless cheek.

"You've never had him," I managed to say in a low, calm voice.

"These rings beg otherwise," she said, twisting her engagement and wedding band on her skinny finger. "I'll be seeing you around, Diana." She walked towards the door where, like magic, Ethel appeared and gave her her hat. Penelope turned one last time to me and said in a completely false tone, "It was _so_ lovely to catch up, Diana."

And then she was gone.

I returned to the kitchen where I was met with anxious eyes.

"Who was it that needed you? Everything is alright, I hope," said Aunt Edith.

"It was Penelope Ha- I mean, Schoonmaker," I answered, sitting down once more in front of my now-cold soup. I had lost all appetite anyways.

Elizabeth placed a quick hand over mine. "What did she want?"

Whatever joy I had in me before her visit was now gone. I was in no state to announce my engagement – that is, _if_ I am truly engaged anymore. I could not tell either of them the full truth of the meeting without telling of my supposed engagement.

I shrugged. "She apologized for everything she'd done before I left."

"Well, good," Aunt Edith said. "It's definitely warranted. That girl was awful to you – to _both_ of you."

Elizabeth nodded. "She's changed so much though…"

They each went on for a bit about how different Penelope was. Could it really be that I am the only one who sees through it all? So I said nothing, allowing them both their delusions.

"Oh, Diana!" exclaimed Elizabeth. "What was it you were going to say before Mrs. Schoonmaker visited?"

I wanted to punch my fist through the wall at Penelope's married name. Elizabeth didn't realize, though. She probably didn't even know what she'd just said. After seven years, it was probably just habit by now.

"I don't remember," I said, eating my soup that was now absolutely tasteless.

* * *

That night, I debated whether or not I should even go to the Schoonmaker greenhouse. Whether I wanted to face it or not, Penelope was right – she could just refuse to sign the papers, therefore denying Henry and I our chance at the one dream I had held so dearly for nearly a decade. Why didn't I think of this before? Maybe I was too swept up in the serendipity of it all to think logically. For a brief second, I had truly believed Penelope had changed. I should have known. A person like Penelope doesn't change.

But I decided I should go that night. I would tell Henry that we were deluded to believe he and I could ever truly work out. I didn't know if I should tell him what Penelope had told me. It wouldn't make any difference, after all. Penelope would find some way to distort his mind into believing she was, again, a helpless victim; a damsel in distress. She was right – we both knew Henry terribly well. Despite what he may have said about leaving her, if she threatened to kill herself, he would stay. He wouldn't be able to look at himself if anything dared go wrong.

Penelope, of course, would never really kill herself. She loved herself far too much for that. Plus, with me being back in New York, it gave her a new toy to test out her malicious plans that she has probably been planning all this time. I did not doubt the validity of Henry's statements about her right after I left: her pregnancy and subsequent miscarriage, the deep depression she sank into… maybe even the remorse she felt about what she had done. But that was years ago. She was back to normal now, and her visit only further proved that.

Thankful that I was wearing black, I was able to easily sneak out my window and down the trellis and out onto the street without anyone noticing me. I had told Ethel that I was going to bed early and that I would dress myself into the nightgown so I wouldn't have to worry about her coming up to an empty room.

Though it was late, I felt that there were more people out wandering the street than usual. I kept my hat and head tilted down to hide my face from anyone I may know. I took back roads and alleys when I was able to keep away from the busier streets.

Finally, I came upon the Schoonmaker mansion on Fifth Avenue – the same one from only a few days ago where Henry kissed me in the pouring rain. The house was dark, marked only by a dying light in a hallway – coming from the kitchen in the back, I assumed. I knew Henry's room faced the street and was on the second floor of the sprawling mansion. Or maybe now he had moved to his father's room on the third floor. I didn't know where Penelope slept, and wondered if maybe she was looking out one of these windows at me. At that thought, a shiver ran down my spine and I hurried along around the side of the house where the greenhouse sat, in all of its sparkling glass. The moon was reflected on the ceiling. As it was a full moon and a clear night, the inside of the greenhouse was lit up.

And there he was.

Henry stood inside, looking out across the lawn. I was late, I knew. I had taken too long deciding whether or not I should show that it must have been an hour later than he had asked. In the summer heat, he was wearing a thin linen shirt rolled up to his elbows and simple black trousers. His hands were stuffed into their pockets while his face had an anxious expression. He probably began to wonder if I was coming at all. But he had waited, hoping.

When his eyes found my dark shape in the shadows, his expression immediately changed to that of recognition and immense love.

I walked slowly towards the greenhouse, feeling utterly unprepared for what I had to tell him. He looked so happy to see me, yet I was about to break him.

He opened the glass door and, before I could even get one word in, he kissed me. With both hands cupped on either side of my face, he kissed me eagerly and passionately. There was a feeling of desperation there, and I kissed him back just as desperately because I didn't know if I would ever get the chance to kiss him ever again after what I would say.

But the kissing didn't stop. Instead, his lips massaged mine into opening and from there, the kisses only intensified in desperation. Oh, how I had longed to feel his lips on mine again. Every night in Europe, I had dreamed that we were together again. Now, that dream had become a reality. I didn't want to ruin it; not yet.

 _Just let me have this one sliver of happiness_ , I thought, accepting the rising heat growing within my body as Henry led me away from the door and further into the greenhouse. Somewhere in the middle, I recalled, there as a bed for the gardener. A bed that Henry was no doubt leading me to. As we stumbled, I could feel Henry's hands on my back, fumbling with the buttons to undress me.

 _This isn't right,_ my conscience was telling me. _He is a married man_.

I paused, remembering that Penelope was only a short walk away in the house. Henry took this to mean he should kiss my collarbone and neck instead. I was huffing from breathlessness. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to draw enough courage to tell him this would be the last time I would ever see him. But the feeling of his soft lips on my jaw and his hands loosening the dress were interrupting my thoughts.

"Henry," I breathed, trying to get his attention to stop.

It worked. His hands paused, as did his light kisses. He brought his face up and I met his eyes. His beautiful, dark eyes. Eyes that were once such a mystery were now as easy to read as a book in afternoon lighting. He was looking at me with such a fierce love, I knew I could never bring myself to say goodbye to them. Not yet, at least. So instead I kissed him again to extinguish my inhibitions.

He moaned my name into the kiss and we fell back onto the bed. I gasped for air and he kissed my neck eagerly. It was then that I saw something in the shadows escaping out the back of the Schoonmaker mansion. No, some _one_. I recognized the small, lithe frame immediately. Penelope.

I gasped in surprise but Henry took it to mean something different and uttered a low, small chuckle.

I was terrified Penelope would see us, and then I would truly be ruined forever. Regardless of Mother gifting me the Gramercy house, I could never come back to New York again.

But she never even glanced toward the greenhouse. The way she moved, with no hesitation and at ease, I could tell she had done this countless times before. And with her black dress and hooded cape, she did not intend to be noticed by anyone.

 _She's having an affair,_ I realized.

With a grin, I turned back to Henry's glowing face in the moonlight and fiercely kissed him. Maybe things weren't so dire as I had previously thought. All I had to do was catch Penelope in the act and then I would have enough leverage over her to _make_ her sign those divorce papers.

* * *

"I feel it's kind of poetic, really," I said, entwining my fingers into Henry's. I had my back pressed close to his bare chest.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, just look at where we are," I said. I motioned with my free hand. "The first night I got to know you – _truly_ know you – was right here."

"And I, you," he replied, placing a light kiss on my moon-drenched shoulder.

"And here we are, still sneaking around and meeting secretly in the dark… while you belong to another." The last part came out just a little quieter.

"That won't be an issue for much longer, my dear," he said comfortingly. He dropped my hands and instead put it around my waist, pulling me tighter to him. "The lawyer said he could have the papers drawn up in two days. And you and I will be sailing for Europe before the week is out. Everything will be alright."

He took my sudden tenseness to mean I was anxious about him being divorced and what that meant to either of our reputations. Instead, I was worried of him _ever_ getting a divorce. How was I supposed to catch Penelope? I couldn't just follow her around all day, everyday. She's too smart; she would know.

Before my mind could swim with too far, Henry nudged me.

"What are you thinking?" he asked. I have been silent too long.

I blinked my long, dark lashes rapidly and sighed. "I'm just tired," I lied.

"You should sleep, then. I won't bother you," he said.

I broke away from his chest to look him directly in the eyes. "I don't want to sleep. I've waited far too long for this moment. Let me enjoy it a while more."

He tucked a loose curl away from my face and pinned it behind my ear. His hand lingered on my neck while his thumb brushed my swollen, lower lip. His features were soft in the dim moonlight, he almost appeared as if he were in my imagination.

"I'll never let you go again, Diana," he whispered. "My true bride."

I had to look away from his perfect aristocratic face before I melted into a pool of butter. I kissed his open palm.

"How did it go today for you?" he asked then.

I had nearly forgotten that Mother's will was read that same day. It felt like lifetimes ago now.

I took in a sharp breath. "Well, Elizabeth got the oil company and the majority of Mother's estate. And I… well, she gave me Gramercy."

"What?!" Henry shot up, exclaiming. The sight of his bare chest nearly drove my heart to explode.

I sat up as well. "I'll be the first Holland to live in that house who isn't the head of the family." I almost laughed at the thought. For my entire seventeen years in that house, I wished for nothing more than to escape, yet here it was, given to me in its entirety.

"So… does this mean you want to stay now? In New York?"

I hated to hear it, but there was a hint of hope in his voice.

"I don't think I could live here, Henry. This place, these people…" I shook my head. "We could never be free here."

Speaking those words terrified me. I knew he viewed New York as more of a home than I ever did. In a split second he could leave if he so wished. He could turn his back on me and return to his broken marriage, perhaps even fall in love with Penelope.

But the look in his face told me otherwise.

"I don't care where we are," he said, speaking softly. "It can be Paris or London or Moscow – as long as I am with you, I am home."

I shifted to look at him closer. "Are you sure?" I asked, trying to read his thoughts. "I don't want to make you do anything you don't want to do, and I know you've always loved this city."

"Diana," he said, exasperated and clasping his hands on either side of my face, "this is what drove us apart in the first place. What don't you understand about this? I don't care about all of that if I don't have you by my side. I've felt like a ghost these last seven years – not truly alive, but just going through everything. You, Diana…" He kissed my forehead. "You make me alive, my dear. I don't care where we go. If you're not happy in New York, then we'll leave. You want to live in Paris? We will live in Paris."

I shook my head fiercely. "No, not Paris."

Henry's brows furrowed. "No? Wasn't that what you wanted all those years ago?"

The air suddenly felt much hotter and I had to back away from his body beneath the sheets.

"Diana?" He was sensing my unease and tried to inch closer. "What's wrong?"

I turned my back to him, gripping the sheets tightly in my fists, fighting off the terror in my memories. I could feel his eyes burning a hole in my back, wanting to ask questions, but unsure which ones to ask. Finally, I felt a warm, comforting hand on my back.

I always knew this moment was going to come. He had the right to know, and to know what he was getting into. Would he still love me the same way after I tell him? Will he ever look at me the same away again?

 _You have to tell him, Diana._

Something fell onto my hand and I realized I was crying. I began shaking from fear, both from having to tell him and having to relive the memory to tell him. I had done well not to think about it for a long time, and live like nothing happened that it was like ripping open a sealed wound.

"My love," Henry said. He forced my shoulders around to look at him. "Tell me what you're thinking."

I'll never forget his eyes then. They were filled with panic and worry that I had to look away for fear I might be too afraid to tell him my darkest secret – a secret I had never spoken about before; a secret I could barely admit to myself.

"I lived in Paris for a considerable amount of time," I began. I had to speak slowly since my voice was so shaky. "Long enough to find a job tending a bar, similar to Cuba. I had an apartment – nothing big, just a bed and a sink to wash up in. It wasn't a life I dreamed of living, but I wasn't here and that was good enough for me. Men at this bar…" My eyes fluttered, trying to keep the memories away. "You put a few drinks in a man and they begin to believe they are capable of anything. They see themselves as God placed upon this earth and all they see is theirs to claim. Of course, the owner was always around and didn't take too kindly when these men would become too rowdy, so he would toss them out when they often became too much. I think he may have had an affinity towards me because he always kept a closer eye on me than any of his other female workers. Oftentimes he would walk me to my apartment at night just to see I got home alright."

Henry was feverishly searching my face, trying to see where this story will go. He had taken my hand into his soon after I began talking and I slipped it out now, feeling too hot and claustrophobic by his touch.

"There were days, of course, where he didn't work and instead left the running of the bar to his nephew, Pierre." I sucked in a sharp breath, the image of Pierre coming to my mind. I almost felt like retching right there on the spot. I took several deep breaths and was grateful Henry remained quiet, allowing me to collect myself enough to continue.

With a voice filled with venom, I continued, "Pierre was not the man his uncle was. He was loud and drunk every time I saw him and, instead of discouraging brash behaviors in the customers, he encouraged it. He would… lay hands on us inappropriately… and laugh and call us his 'little vixens.' Women would risk losing their jobs by not showing up for work whenever they heard Pierre was coming in. He would join the men drinking but would become much, much worse than them as nights wore on since he never had to pay for his drinks. Of course many women, including myself, had complained to the owner about him but he always brushed it off, saying, 'Boys will be boys. He'll grow out of it.'"

I squeezed my eyes shut, letting multiple drops fall down my cheeks and onto the bed.

 _Please, please – don't make me do this,_ I begged in my mind. _He'll only see me as broken._

But I had to. I couldn't stop now, not now that I've started. Henry deserved to know, if he truly wanted to marry me.

"Each night Pierre worked, he always focused his attentions on one girl in particular with a new one each night. Often, I would never hear or see her again. For years, I was lucky enough to never have been a chosen toy of his. I became used to the inappropriate gropes and comments by the customers and Pierre. I thought… I thought it was manageable. I believed I could handle it."

I continued on, replaying the dreaded deed in my mind. I no longer knew what words flew out of my mouth. I was sucked back into Paris and saw it all play out again as if I were a ghost in the shadows instead of inhabiting my own body.

I had been told the night before while the owner walked me to my apartment that Pierre would be coming in the following day.

"You're a strong girl," he said in a thick French accent, "I don't doubt you can handle Pierre."

Hearing this news only gave me slight unease. I had been handling Pierre and his antics for long enough to know how to evade them. Pierre hadn't chosen me yet – perhaps he didn't want to. Tomorrow would be no different.

I got into work the following night and Pierre was already there with many empty glasses already surrounding him. From his red cheeks and loud, slurred speech, I knew it could only have been him drinking there so far. When I walked in, I could feel his eyes follow me the length of the room. I put on my work apron as I did everyday and went to clear the empty glasses away from his table. The girl I was taking over for was clearly too afraid of Pierre to clear them away herself. I had gained the reputation of being quite possibly the only girl Pierre hadn't fixated on; therefore I was usually the only girl who would ever service him.

"You're not new, are you?" Pierre asked in French as I began taking away glasses.

"No," I answered curtly, not wanting to talk to him, or any man, in such a state as he was.

"How long have you worked for my uncle, little vixen?" he asked in French again.

"Three and a half years," I answered in English, hoping this would deter him. Very few people in the area knew English.

"Ah, an American!" he exclaimed in English as well.

 _Damn him_.

I had hoped he didn't know the language, so as to stop the conversation there, but that plan was now gone.

"You have been here for this long – why have I not seen you before?" His accent was so thick and he was so drunk I had a hard time distinguishing his words. I could only shrug in response. I tried to walk away then but he grabbed my arm so fiercely, I nearly dropped all the glasses in my hands. "What is your name, girl?"

I could feel my face go white. It was the question he always asked the girls he chose.

I could have lied. I could have just walked away. But some stupid part of me believed I could handle him. I had for this long, what could happen now?

"Diana," I said before swiftly turning away.

Throughout the rest of the night, I could feel his gaze on me. He didn't say or do anything else, aside from ordering drink after drink. Foolishly, I thought I was in the clear, but that night I would learn why his chosen girls never came to work again.

By closing, Pierre was belligerent. His words became harder and harder to understand but, miraculously, he was still able to stand.

I said my goodbyes to the other ladies and left the bar, sighing in relief that Pierre hadn't done anything else. It was only moments later that the bar door behind me exploded open and Pierre tumbled into me.

"Diana," he slurred, his whole being reeking of whiskey. I was shocked he remembered my name this far along into the night. "My little American vixen."

"It is late, Pierre," I replied in English. "I wish to go home."

"Home? Bah!" he exclaimed. "Come have a drink with me. You won't regret it."

"I'm sure you're presence would be better appreciated in the morning. After a bath." I tried to speak in as vile a tone as possible. In his state, I doubted he would remember anything in the morning so I didn't have to fear retribution for being rude from the owner.

He stepped closer again, wrapping his hands tightly around my waist.

"Oh, come." He fake-pouted. "You don't mean that. I could make you a _very_ happy woman."

I tried to wrestle out of his grip and step further away. Eventually, I did.

"I can promise you, you will not, sir," I replied. I took a few more steps away. "Now, goodnight."

I turned my back, but what I said must have angered him. He ran to me, grabbing my arm so tightly I yelped in surprise and pain. He pulled me along further on the street. It was nearly dawn and no one was there to help.

"Now listen here, Diana," he said, spitting in my ear, "I'm sure you enjoy your job here, yes? One word from me to my uncle of your insubordination and you are out on the streets. Do you hear me, madam?"

Maybe he _would_ remember this in the morning. Should I really risk it all? If I missed even one day of work, I wouldn't be able to afford my rent.

"What do you want?" I asked. "I can't give you any money."

"No, no," he said, pulling me further and further away from the main street and my apartment. "I want you."

"Me?" I asked. It wasn't until he led me down and abandoned alley that I caught his meaning. I pulled against him suddenly, my blood feeling like fire.

"Don't fight it, little vixen," he whispered, pressing me head-on against the building's stone wall. A jagged edge of a stone was protruding into my cheek, already drawing blood. "You will enjoy it. All women do. I've never had an American before." He leaned in close as I struggled against his heavy weight. Even in his drunkenness, he was a thick, burly man. Something warm and wet touched my cheek then. By the strong smell of alcohol, I knew it was his tongue. "You're going to be delicious."

"Please, please," I begged, tears stinging my vision. "Don't do this. I'll do whatever you want."

He snarled. "Good."

He began kissing my ear but when I tried to turn away, his hand grabbed the back of my hair and held me, painfully, in place. His kissing quickly changed to a hard bite and I yelped in pain again.

"You'll be quiet," he hissed. With the hand still in my hair, he yanked my head back suddenly and, with his other, grabbed my throat tightly from behind. "You will enjoy me, little vixen. They always do."

He squeezed my throat tightly, making me gasp for breath. I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears and became hyper-aware of every inch of my body, simultaneously being crushed by his weight and the stone wall.

His grip released just as spots began to appear in my vision. I was relieved for only a moment until a new horror arose. His vile hands began roving over my body, leaving trails of shivers wherever they went. I knew what was to come, and only longed for it to be over and done with. I tried to think of something, anything, to take my mind away from the horror that would ensue. And that's when Henry came to mind. I tried to recall his dark, worldly eyes and sharp, chiseled jaw line that only men of his status seemed to have. I tried to bring back the sound of his voice and the shape of his lips as they said my name.

But only lonely blackness greeted my mind that night. As Pierre began lifting my skirts, my lips trembled and I tried to call out for help but no sound came.

There was a split moment where his weight lifted off me and I could breathe fully. I could try to escape. I could try to run – go back to the bar, and find of the girls to help me. But that was hopeless. Not only would Pierre surely be able to catch up to me before I even left this alley and possibly make things even worse, but those girls were long gone by now.

That moment of being able to breathe quickly ended with one shove of his body into mine. And with that one shove, all fight left me. Fighting him from then on out would be pointless. With one sharp, shooting pain, it was all over.

I could feel the world around me go numb with each subsequent thrust. My body, once hyper-aware, now went slack. I was nothing. Empty. I simply ceased to exist. My mind went silent and I figured I was dying. So be it. Let me die. Let me wither away and become dust. There was nothing left of Diana Holland anymore, only a ghost where I stood in that alley that night.

From the darkest depths of my mind, I heard Pierre say, "I told you you'd stop fighting and enjoy it."

His breath was quick, and I knew from experience with Henry that this would be over soon. Pierre's thrusts became more and more desperate, shoving deeper every time. Then, with a loud grunt and twitch of his body, he finished. He backed away, fixed his pants and adjusted his hair. My skirts fell around me and, aside from a few minor tears and streaks of dirt from either him or the wall, it appeared as if nothing had occurred. But every inch of my aching body told me otherwise.

"I'll be seeing you again, my little American vixen," Pierre said with a wink.

Then, with a drunken stumble or two, he was gone.

I stayed there for what felt like hours. My body may not have broken, but something inside of me did that night. The sun wasn't even risen yet before I finally left the alley and went back to my apartment.

"I didn't leave my room for two days. I didn't know if I could. The pain as so bad, I could barely leave my bed. I'd gotten bruises on my neck from his fingers wrapping around my throat and my thighs from when he…" I closed my eyes, coming back to the room with Henry. "I felt like I couldn't breathe for days. One of the girls from work visited me to make sure I was alright after a couple days of not showing up to work. She saw the state I was in and knew what had happened without me saying a word. She helped me bathe – as I couldn't find the will or strength to since the ordeal – and cleaned my cuts. She fed me and made sure I was alright, at least physically, before she left.

"The thing is… while she was there, I knew she was trying to help me but my mind became even more flooded with the memories I was trying so hard to forget. After a week of wallowing, I tried to go back to work. But on my way in, through the window, I could see _him_. The sensation of his hand gripping my throat came back as vividly as if he was doing it right then. I immediately turned around, bought a one-way ticket to Southampton, gave the rest of my cash away as a partial payment of rent, and left that day. I haven't been back since."

The silence that followed was deafening. I kept my eyes low the entire time, too afraid to see his face. I wouldn't have been able to bear it. The look that I knew to be in his eyes would tear me in half. He said nothing for ages, nor did I. I didn't know if I even _wanted_ him to say anything. I thought of two outcomes, and neither was desirable. Either he despised me and ordered me to leave his sight because I was now soiled goods, or he viewed me as damaged and would do everything in his earthly power as a mortal man to fix me. I didn't want to be seen as something that needed to be fixed. I didn't want to look into his eyes everyday and see his pity for me laid bare. It would only remind me of Pierre and that night in the alley. I wanted to move on, away from it all. Not drown in it daily.

"Diana," he finally spoke, saying my name so quietly and as if he were gasping for air after being underwater for some time.

I took the risk and glanced up at him. There, I was shocked to find, I saw neither disgust nor pity. Instead, there was only pain.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked. "What do you need from me right now?"

His reaction was far from anything I had expected, and I was so shocked that I couldn't find words at first. Tears filled both our eyes and I launched myself toward him, pulling him into an embrace. After a second of surprise, he wrapped his arms around my small, bare body.

"Diana?"

"Thank you," I said through a deep, shuddering breath.

He backed away. "For what?"

I took his warm, soft hands in mine. "For… everything. For not being angry; for not seeing me as broken; for not asking questions."

Henry sighed before answering. "I _am_ angry. I'm furious at the bastard who would ever hurt you." He cupped my face delicately. "I would go there now and kill the man if I could." His fevered voice told me everything he said was true, and I drew my eyes down. "But I won't, if only for your sake. I never want us parted again, and I would never dream of bringing you back to that hellhole with me. And as for seeing you as broken… my dear, you are _far_ too strong-willed to ever be broken. You are still as perfect in my eyes as the day you stole my hat."

"I think you mean the day you proposed to Elizabeth," I recalled with a small laugh.

He smiled, his perfect white teeth glowing in the moonlight. "Yes. That."

"So…" I gulped. "You still want to marry me then? Leave everything behind for me?"

The hand cupping my face drew me into him and he placed the lightest kiss on my lips.

"The thought never wavered in my mind," he said.

I smiled and kissed him back.


End file.
